Mobius Chains
by Anabel Sinclair
Summary: Inter office shakeup leaves Leon in a new division, with a new partner. There's a serial killer on the loose with a feline calling card...and D finally gets some serious competition.
1. Chapter 1

Introduction.

Well hello again!

It certainly has been a while since I got the creative impetus to…write something.

Life and I have been butting heads and we've come to an acceptable compromise. (She remains gracious in victory and I try not to limp away too obviously.)

I had been working on this idea off and on for a few now, never really committing to put something down (Commitment-phobic, that's the word right?) But this story just wants to be written.

You never know what happens when you're bored long enough and stand still long enough for something to hit you….

As per my usual slacker self, who knows how long this will take? But I promise to do my best to update regularly and keep a fairly logical continuity throughout (So there _will_ be a plot line…and other things).

Please feel free to comment and criticize (Within reason of course, no need shatter what's left of my self esteem here).

Hopefully, we'll all emerge from this in once piece. (If not, remember that I suffer along with you…every step of the way).

I will try to keep my ramblings to a minimum and _focus_ on the story.

Disclaimer (here once and for all)

I do not own Petshop of Horrors and make no claims to the characters.

I just like what if's.


	2. Chapter 2

Warnings:

Rated T to be safe...this might go up.

Shounen-ai (possibly yaoi) pairings

Leon is and shall ever be a potty-mouth.

Shuffled

Detective Leon Orcot dropped the framed picture of his brother into the cardboard box, his last personal item remaining on the work desk. He heaved a sigh, distantly tracing a work weathered palm along the rough grain of the wood, feeling every nick and dent, many caused by his carelessness or the many bouts of frustration that came with his work. Well, it was over now…

"Done cleaning up?"

He jerked off the desk, half scowling at the figure darkening the threshold of the cubicle. "Damn Porter, warn a guy next time…yeah, nothing else to pick up."

His former coworker nodded, hooking his thumbs into his belt. "No gum under the desk right? No one wants to deal with that first day of work."

The blond rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "How old are you Porter?" His expression sobered however at the thought of vacating this office to another. "So, we know who they're bringing in to replace me?"

Porter grunted in assent. "Benson from C I. I heard some good stuff about him; got a serious head on his shoulders, gets things done." He sighed and shook his head. "But…he ain't Orcot. We're gonna miss you man."

Leon shrugged and shut the box, tucking it under his arm. "Yeah I'm gonna miss you too, but at least I'm moving on up."

The other man nodded, his grim becoming more pronounced. "That's right my man, Special Crimes Division! I heard they actually got corner offices over there. Well they should, since they got their on direct budget and all. SCD…lucky bastard."

"Yeah, yeah, they've also got the highest turnover and fatality rates. It's even worse than Major Crimes and SID combined," the blond groused. When he'd first gotten the promotion letter, the first reaction had been surprise and then dread. Surprise because the SCD was like the Seal and Marine unit of the PD, where only the cream of the crop ever ended up. The cop was no slouch and he knew that, what with his track record with the force. In his relatively few years he'd cracked tough cases and rid the streets of real scumbags. Leon was good, but one of the best? He could count at least five guys just in his department who deserved this shot as well but were passed over.

That brought about the second feeling that had been festering in his midsection since his promotion—dread. The SCD, despite all of the glamor and pizazz, had a dark reputation for being literally a moratorium for trouble makers. Leon knew one of his greatest weaknesses was his determination; he'd stepped on his share of toes in the drive to solve crimes and bring justice to wrongdoers. He'd butted heads with superiors more than once too…was this the honest attempt to get rid of him for good? He didn't think the Chief would treat him that way; the old man was like a father to him.

A grizzly, dyspeptic and impatient one… He sighed and shook his head.

"I gotta go, Chief wanted my ass out of here by two and it's already two thirty."

Porter chuckled heartily, shifting backward to give the blond room. "That's Leon alright, disobeying orders till the very end. Take care of yourself over there man. Show 'em how we do things here at Homicide."

Leon nodded and gave a final wave. He was glad that the time of his leaving coincided with the lunch break hour for many of his colleagues. Emotional goodbyes weren't his thing and the last thing he wanted was a sob fest with the otherwise battle hardened members of his crew. Still, there was no denying the wrenching feeling in his midsection when the elevator came to a stop at the ground floor and he stepped into the usual cacophony of sounds as he had for the past five years. Uniformed patrol men hoisted protesting delinquents off to be booked…here and there a pale faced teen quaked in fear, emphatically promising never to sign another graffiti again…He sighed and shook his head.

Time to go.

_One door closes for another to Open._


	3. Chapter 3

(Extra) Warnings:

Darkness...implied violence

Come, Kitty

The two cars parked in front of the luxury condominium apartment, one after the other. One was a black Lexus jeep, with chrome wheels and heavily tinted windows; the other, a limousine. Three thick set men in black suits and aviator glasses exited from the jeep, one walking toward the limousine while the other two stood guard by the apartment's front door.

They looked around, making sure there were no itinerant passersby around, even though few people were out and about this time of the day. The man by the limo nodded to the others and opened the door, taking a respectful step back.

"Ma'am."

An elegant, silver and black boot stepped out and then another, as a svelte figure emerged from the car. She was covered from the neck down in mink, jewels glittering even in the overcast sky. They hurried through the glass doors and across the lobby, hardly glancing at those milling the place, oblivious to the stir they created. Two stayed by the elevator while she went up. Her apartment was located at the penthouse, the only one that took up the entire space. The elevator dinged and the door swung open; she half glanced at the stationary man next to her, "I won't be long," and stepped out.

The doors clicked open and she walked in, kicking off her shoes, carelessly tossing fur coat and purse at her feet. She crossed into the living room and flicked on the light switch, freezing when the illumination revealed the figure lounging casually on her leather couch.

"W-who are you?"

He lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. "That does not matter."

A frightened look crossed her eyes and she looked around her. She had come through her private elevator accessible only by her key card; the doors were not tampered with and the alarm system was still on the green.

"How the hell did you get into my apartment?"

A small smile crossed his lips and he stretched languidly. "That does not matter either. The important thing is that I am here now; we've been waiting for you, Miss Henderson."

Her shock was replaced by tension and alertness, so much so that she flinched and screamed when something brushed against her leg. The white furred cat didn't pause on its way to the black clad stranger on the couch, leaping into his arms and cuddling closer with a loud purr.

"C-Caesar?"

He looked up from the cat and raised an eyebrow. "We have business, Miss Henderson. Unfinished business."

"U-unfinished business? I don't know you from anywhere—what are you doing in my house?" Her voice had risen to a shrill scream now and she took a hasty step back, looking wildly around her.

He chuckled and stood up, his deceptively slender frame towering over her. "If you are thinking about getting to the shotgun in the bedroom, or the Derringer in your purse, don't bother. You will be dead before you can reach either one of them." The words were spoken lightly, his smile never wavering as he glanced at his manicured nails, but she knew with certainty that he was not joking.

"What do you want from me? Who sent you here?" Her eyes narrowed a fraction. "It is Braxton isn't it? Well I've told him time and time again that I'm not selling out! How much did he pay you for this? I'll double it, triple it even. Just don't kill me."

A perfectly arched eyebrow rose in amusement and he shook his head. "I am afraid your life is already forfeit." The temperature in the room went drastically lower as he took a slow step forward, his pleasant smile tinged with menace. "You see your cup has been slowly filling these past few years and it has finally filled to the brim. Today, now, we shall both watch it overflow.

She took a step back, eyes widening in panic. Goose bumps sprang up over her skin, the hairs on her body rising erect. Her breaths fell fast and shallow, nausea cresting like a horrible wave up her stomach. This was impossible—how did he get past her guards, her state of the art security, and every measure she ever took to prevent against something like this from happening? She continued to back away from him, farther and farther until she tripped on her own shoes and fell. All this while he hadn't moved an inch, made no threatening move towards her and yet unexplainable shivers of dread crawled up and down her spine.

"P-please." She hated how she sounded, the nasal whine to her voice; she hated the fact that she was cringing on the floor. Her, Camilla Henderson, reduced to begging! No, I will not be reduced to this, she thought furiously, propping herself on one elbow. The cat hissed instantly, leaping from his arms unto the floor in front of her. She gasped and he laughed, a high pitched, childish sound that grated against her ears.

"Afraid, Miss Henderson? Good… you should be."

She forced her frozen limbs to move until she was sitting upright eyes fixed on his every move. "What have I ever done to you? W-why are you doing this?"

His genial expression froze at that, eyes blazing with mad fury. "Why? I will show you why." He was fast, impossibly so, clearing the distance between them faster than the eye could blink. She flinched when he jerked her up by the neck in a cold, vice like grip until their gaze held. She looked into his eyes, those terrible eyes, and her throat closed over with terror. He grinned; that was the last thing she saw before the lights suddenly went out and the carnage began…

The guard by the elevator looked at his watch once more, wondering how long it took to change…

Caesar sat on the couch, cleaning himself with long, lazy swipes. The window curtain rippled and he glanced at it, mewling to the figure leaning against the wall.

"Yes it is time we left; no need to overstay our welcome. Come, kitty."

The cat delicately dropped to the ground and minced across the room, stepping through the splashes of blood and gore here and there until he reached the stranger's beckoning arms.

_Those who live in glass houses watch out for rocks._


	4. Chapter 4

Warnings:

Potty mouth-ness.

Swivel

J.C. Tennyson rolled off his bed with a growl of discontent, absently reaching for his crumpled boxer shorts on the floor. The quick glance across the bed was followed by a sound of relief. Good, he felt particularly grateful that she had the good sense not to wait for breakfast in bed. J.C. was not a morning person. Miranda was, but they'd quickly come to some sort of compromise after her third failed attempt to engage him in early morning cuddle sessions. He felt his way into the bathroom where, after a stinging cold shower and shave, it stopped feeling like the universe took sadistic pleasure in torturing this one human.

J.C. padded barefoot across the room, careless of the wet foot prints he was leaving on the expensive wood finish. It didn't matter anymore. The odds of finding a reputable apartment in his side of the Bronx were about as good as winning the lottery—the odds of finding one with a walk in closet, even less. He pushed open the doors, giving the rows of shirts and pants a contemplative glance. What would it be? Already he could feel the overbearing mugginess of the indecisive April sky, too cloudy to portend pleasant things for the afternoon, not cool enough to allow for a sweater.

April was the sulky toddler among the months.

Finally, J.C. decided on a forest green V-neck and light brown jacket over faded jeans and brown suede loafers. Getting dressed took all of fifteen minutes and then he stood, frowning at his reflection on the mirror.

J.C. supposed he couldn't complain about his look—that would be looking a gift horse in the mouth. They'd landed him unbelievably hot chicks in the past. But they'd also put him in trouble more than once; like with his boss's over eager daughter, or the obsessive socialite housewife and her vengeful husband. Sometimes, more trouble than was healthy.

Some called him exotic, he didn't see it. But then people called anyone of mixed heritage exotic. He had Portuguese-America heritage to thank for his skin tone; the lightest shade of tan dusted with gold, the 'classic Roman nose' the stubborn curls his black hair made no matter how much he brushed them back. And of course, his eyes. They were hazel, no big deal as far as he was concerned but people had called them everything from tiger's eyes to, once when he was a child in Catholic school, demon eyes. He rolled them and mock glared, giving his hair one more brush before admitting defeat and exiting the room.

The itinerary for the day—not much, just two pressing things. J.C. grabbed one of his paper cups from the kitchen holder and filled it with coffee, giving the quiet apartment a once over as he made for the door. The first place on the list was a bus and subway ride, a few miles from home. He sipped on the scalding liquid, breezing past the security system and two amateur pickpockets before settling across from an elderly lady with her two grandchildren. J.C. took a deep breath and slightly shook his head. This was his last day—his last day riding the subway, the last day as a New Yorker…the last day as a member of the NYPD.

He was relieved, glad even, when the reassignment letter had finally come through because it would at least mean no more clashes with his Chief. He told himself it didn't matter where they took him; they could toss him in some Podunk sheriff's department in any back county for all he cared. After six years of the same bullshit with the same narrow minded, power hungry sumbitch, he was done and wrung dry. But the fates intervened and they only tossed him across the country to San Francisco. Truthfully, like any patriotic New Yorker, he'd baulked and protested the location but that had only given his boss more impetus to nail him deeper into the wall. After weeks of hemming and hawing, J.C. accepted the inevitable and packed up shop.

The subway came to a stop in his station and he got off, just in time to catch his bus before it rolled out of the stop. Twenty minutes later, J.C. got off, preferring to walk to his destination. Walking always put him in the right state of mind for this—that and there was a flower shop conveniently located two blocks away. He stopped in and bought a bouquet of lilacs, the heady fragrance bringing a pang to his midsection. It was a short walk from there to Saint Raymond Cemetery. He'd done this unfailingly twice a month, every month, for the past four years. The place was quiet, as expected from a graveyard, but not spookily so. J.C. actually felt calmness from the hush in the air, the knowledge that nothing from these parts could hurt him. Before long, he was standing over the familiar black granite headstone. A small smile tugged his lips and he lowered to his haunches.

"Boa manha, querida…como vai*? Stupid question, I know. You're all good. I brought your favorite flowers," he murmured, gently settling the bouquet over the grave. "Yeah betcha thinkin' what has he gone and done now? Nothin', avo, honest. Just that I turned in by badge yesterday…got nothin' left holding me back here."

J.C. took a deep breath and shook his head. "Well, except for you, and I'll always carry you in my heart. I dunno what it's gonna be like over there in San Francisco…crap, what the hell am I doing, right? I tried to get them to change my assignment but that asshole Brenner…" He stopped, almost hearing his grandmother's strident voice in his head.

_Bobo* Casi, ya gotta make the best of wherever you go._

"Yeah I know grams, but if I'm in San Francisco, then how am I gonna make these visits? I'ma miss you."

Of course he'd been missing her every day for the past four years— her strength and love, the many advices she gave whether he asked or not. He'd been missing her ever since the kidney failure claimed her forever. Avo was the only family J.C had left. Lurdes and her infant daughter Dores had crossed the oceans to make a new life in America and they had. Dores grew up and when she brought home a white boy, her mother didn't make a fuss like other parents would have. She didn't bow over to grief when Mitch Tennyson appeared on her doorstep, bearing a newborn infant and never returned. She took care of the child, the only remnant of her line and the last link she had to her daughter until he grew up. And then one day he came home, announcing his decision to be a cop. J.C. knew his decision broke her heart but she only gave him support, cracking jokes now and then that she was fated to outlive everyone she loved. They thought she would.

"Yeah well, I'll be leaving tomorrow; already signed the lease for my apartment over there and everything. Just got a few things to finish…a few people to say goodbye to." He smirked, envisioning the glare of disapproval on her face.

_"Casi, where did you pick up these bad habits? Pick one girl from your faceless horde and settle down!"_

_"Can't do that, avo, I'm too young for all that settling down business."_

True, he was only twenty seven after all. J.C. pressed a hand to his lips and then patted the headstone. "Look after me from up there, 'kay?" He stepped away from the grave with a sad smile, banishing the tears that sprang unbidden to his eyes.

_None of that now!_

"None of that…I know. Adeus, avo."

Alright, one down, one to go. Next stop, breaking up with Miranda.

_Life is like a Mobius strip; no matter where you go, there's no getting away from origin._

_--------------------------------------------------_

_And this is where I shall ramble._

_*Portuguese:Good morning, dear. How are you?_

_*Avo means grandmother_

_*Bobo: idiot or silly person, just like tonto in Spanish or baka in Japanese_

_*Adeus: Goodbye  
_


	5. Chapter 5

Warnings:

Pottymouth-ness

Chain

Leon hurried into the airport, glancing at his watch to check the time. Gate C they said, without bothering to mention that it was halfway across the damn airport. He bit back a curse as a passerby's overburdened trolley made a sudden jerk, ramming him hard in the shins.

"Oh sorry," she exclaimed, a matronly figure in a bright print dress, whose harried expression was not helped by the hyper twins running around her. "Mitch, Rachel!"

The detective shook his head as he walked away, thankful that his brother was all the way across the country and more or less out of his hair. Thinking about Chris softened the hard lines on his face; the kid would be coming over to spend a few weeks of his summer vacation. This was one of the reasons the blond had easily accepted the reassignment, since the promotion came with a pay raise and more flexible hours. As far as Leon was now concerned, that was the only benefit to the whole package. Not only did his new job not come with a corner office, they were also shunting him with a partner. He didn't like partners—they came with other unwanted concepts like compromise and carpools. He needed to be able to follow his gut on a case without having to explain his reasoning.

Overhead, a calm and modulated voice announced the arrival of flight 421 and Leon made a sound of thanks that he was at least spared from the curse of the delayed flight. As if he wasn't dealing with enough disappointment, his boss had to rub insult upon injury by requiring him to babysit the newcomer. The guy was from New York; that alone already soured the detective's disposition toward him. He'd had experience with cops from New York. Those East coast punks always acted like they were smarter than everyone else, jumping around aggressively and ultimately getting in everyone's way.

Leon scanned the rush of new faces, fervently hoping that this guy wouldn't make him regret his move. What's he supposed to look like anyway, he groused, wondering why human resources hadn't bothered to leave a picture or something. He looked past the pregnant woman and her tired looking husband, the group of elderly people that shuffled down his way, taking brief interest in the smartly dressed blonde in a pencil skirt as she marched by…Here and there, mini reunions were breaking out, creating unnecessary hold ups in the terminal. Leon was about to give up with the whole deal when he spotted the lone guy shouldering a tote and laptop bag; he looked distinctly uncomfortable with the emotional displays around him. The casual way he carried the laptop bag was an unspoken dare to any roving pick pocket and the detective homed in on him.

"Jonathan Tennyson—detective Jonathan Tennyson?"

The man nodded a hesitant smile on his face. "Yeah…"

"I'm detective Leon Orcot, your new partner." Great, introductions were out of the way; Leon gave his new partner a once over. He was one of those who trusted on their first instinct about a person or thing and a lot of things from here on would be based on whatever impression he got of the other man. Jonathan Tennyson wore a crisp black tee over faded jeans and slightly worn sneakers. It was technically still his day off but it said that he wasn't a suit and tie kind of person. His lean muscled frame could only come from regular hours working out, which meant he had discipline…even though the blond decided that those abs were gym made. He looked up to meet the other man's frank and open gaze, knowing instantly that he was being assessed in very much the same manner. They stared at each other for a moment and then grinned.

"Nice to meet ya." Jonathan stuck out his left hand and Leon took it, nothing the other man's firm handshake.

"Yeah, nice to meet you too."

For the first time in the past few weeks, the detective felt a sense of calm. Instinctively he knew he could live with this arrangement—he would work well with this New Yorker.

***

"So, what made you decide to move to our neck of the woods?"

They had finally emerged from the hell port and were traveling down the highway. The brunet pulled a face.

"Needed a change of scenery."

Cop speak for trouble with the boss.

"You?"

"Needed a bigger paycheck."

They both shared a chuckle at that and Jonathan nodded. "Yeah there's always that too. But the S.C.D…I've heard a lot about you guys. Tell me, is it as bad as they make it out to be?"

The blond shrugged, glancing out the window. "I dunno, they just assigned me to the division."

"Really? Wow, two of us pulled out at the same time, what are the odds?"

My sentiments exactly, Leon replied internally. "Tell me about it. Well it don't look too bad—at least we don't have eight bosses above us, each screaming different orders down the ladder."

Jonathan nodded, his smile turning grim. "Only one and it's a woman." The other man raised an eyebrow and he clarified. "Been reading up on the files human resources sent me."

The blond had to admit that he hadn't even glanced at the files, what with the chaos of moving and settling. He had to assume then that his partner knew a lot more about him than he did the other guy. Starting at a disadvantage simply would not do. "She's got a solid track record—the whole place is got a solid rep." Despite everything else.

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, while he concentrated on navigating, eventually pulling out of the highway and through an exit. "So, got somewhere planed already? Noticed you don't have much luggage."

Jonathan half twisted, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. "Yeah, I got a lease on an apartment and paid the movers to move everything for me. Haven't even seen the place yet." He handed the address over to his partner, who gave it a cursory glance and nodded.

"Yep, know this place. It's about as crappy and half-assed as my neighborhood."

"Shit, I knew I was gonna be jacked. The girl at the leasing office sounded too eager."

Leon chuckled and shook his head. "Welcome to 'Frisco, man."

_It takes a wiseguy to know a wiseguy_


	6. Chapter 6

Warnings:

...None!

The Cat's Paw

The trio descended the stairs and into the bowels of the building, their footfalls echoing along the steel and concrete grey walls. They came to a pair of glass doors; figure in the lead swiped his card on the electronic reader and the door clicked open, releasing a small gust of pressurized air. They walked into the cool, sterile lab, the dim fluorescent lights casting elongated shadows in their wake as they made for the center of the room.

A stout, grizzled man stood hunched over a gurney, muttering to himself as his forceps moved back and forth.

"Do you have anything conclusive now, Forsythe," the second of the trio murmured, her strident tone setting the man upright.

"Oh director Jillian, speak of the devil. I was just about to ring up the results of my complete analysis."

The director nodded perfunctorily and took a few steps closer, face devoid of emotion as her pale blue eyes moved over the prone form. "Who am I looking at, Jenner?" The question was directed to one of the assistants flanking her, and the bespectacled man raised an eyebrow.

"Miss Camilla. P. Henderson, daughter of construction tycoon Bryce Peters and widow of Nathan Henderson."

She frowned slightly, looking away from the cadaver. "Henderson, isn't that the pet food company; the one with the huge blow out about the chemicals found in their products two years ago?"

Jenner nodded. "The very same, and the company's stocks never fully recovered from the fiasco. It was a civil suit field day; about fifty independent suits against the company, separate from the 130 million dollar settlement with their class action suit. Camilla here survived her husband by ten years, since which she was the principal shareholder on the board."

His history lesson impressed upon them all the irony of the situation, one which his colleague, Paulsen, couldn't help remarking on. "So, pet food maker gets mauled to death in her own home. Someone has a sense of humor."

Jill made a sound of assent. "Or a vendetta." She turned back to the hitherto silent ME expectantly. "What do you have for me?"

Forsythe stripped off his gloved and handed her a thin file, pushing a button which brought the remaining lights to life, illuminating the entire room. "Miss Henderson died at approximately two fifteen pm on Thursday. Her body was discovered not long after by one of her bodyguards. Judging from the extent and location of her wounds, I can say with certainty that they were inflicted with the intent to cause as much pain as possible over a short period of time."

The other three took another glance at the mangled remains and shuddered collectively.

"What exactly did this?"

The examiner shrugged lightly. "The analysis of the scratch and claw marks on her upper torso show that the animal in question is mammalian, of the family _felidae_…specifically, _felis catus_.

Silence followed his words for a long moment, and then Jenner raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Cat— you're trying to say that this amount of damage was done by a house cat?"

Forsythe nodded, a grim smile on his face. "Well a house cat weighing somewhere from between 100 and 250 pounds."

Jill looked up from the toxicology report. "I see…and there were no narcotic substances in her system. Her alcohol level was a .03, that's hardly enough for anything."

"I'm afraid that is all I can give you. Camilla Henderson died from massive hemorrhaging caused by lacerations to her upper torso and the severing of her carotid artery."

The director handed the files to Jenner and began backpedaling from the room. "Thank you, that will be all for now."

Once the trio was up the stairs and in the elevator, she let go of the calm visage and banged a fist against the side. "Dammit that's the fourth one in the past month! Can someone tell me how a woman gets mauled to death in her penthouse, with no signs of forced entry and under the nose of her bodyguards…by a house cat?"

The other two shook their heads and Paulsen crossed his arms. "They did say that Camilla had a purebred Persian and that it mysteriously disappeared from the apartment. We've got animal services looking out for it, in case the killer hoped to make fast cash selling it."

Jenner made a sound of dissent, pausing when the elevator dinged and the door opened at their floor. They stepped out into the deserted corridor and he continued with a lower voice. "That doesn't make sense though; the safe was intact, so were the credit cards in her purse, and the woman was literally covered in diamonds. Since when did house cats become such valuable items on the black market?"

The director lifted a shoulder. "Well, value is in the eyes of the beholder…perhaps the killer decided the cat more valuable than everything else."

They all froze at her words and shared a look.

"You don't think," Paulsen started and his colleague shook his head.

"Don't go there Jill, remember what happened the last time someone tried to investigate that angle. Too many friends in the right places."

Jill threw her hands in the air in frustration. "Well what do they want from us? That's the only viable lead we got. Besides, the suspicious death of four multi-millionaires in the same month by nearly identical circumstances has got to make the higher ups nervous. Maybe they'll be more flexible now."

Jenner sighed and rubbed his face. "Either way, it'll take iron clad proof to make this one stick. The division is already stretched to max as it is."

A faint smile flashed across the director's lips. "I'm not so sure about that. If we can tie this string of murders to him…"

_The fortune cookie says: Tea is the key to longevity_


	7. Chapter 7

Housekeeping! (Me being oblivious me, of course)

Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing ^^

**Silver Tears 11: Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying it...don't worry, D will show up soon enough.**

**Zeynel: ^^ Glad you do**

**13IsTaLkThEaKaTsUkI13: I'll do my best to**

**Anna McNarin: Thank you for your kind words, and observations. Ya' never know... (Imagine D in prison jumper suit) ^^.**

**Elvina Potter: D will make his appearance soon...about the other things.**

**1. The fic takes place in San Fransisco**

**2. There's a modification on the time frame- not much- but you'll see why below.**

**3. It is Au to some extent but some points will go along with the Manga. (Hopefully that works out well).**

Without further ado...**  
**

Warnings:

None!

Twilight

There were five people sitting around a long table in an otherwise unremarkable room, one of the numerous used for clandestine meetings in the precinct. Four of them were dressed conservatively- dark suits with starched shirts and ties that ranged in color from black to navy blue- and the only woman in the room was no exception.

The other two looked exactly on the opposite end of the spectrum. Leon wore a suspiciously pristine white tee shirt over faded denim jeans, the edge of one white sneaker resting over the knee of the other leg, back slouched over the executive leader seat and arms folded around the midriff in a demeanor that matched the polite boredom on his face. Now and then his head would loll slightly forward, tipping his mass of sun bleached blond hair over his temples and shielding his half lidded eyes from view.

J.C. was dressed just as casually, though he sported a pale blue three quarter sleeve shirt fully un-tucked over his dark pants. His mass of coal black curls was in need of a haircut. A single key key chain swung around his index finger in a perfect revolution that kept pace with the ticking clock over his head.

Someone cleared his throat and the blond looked up, crystal clear blue eyes immediately picking him out from the crowd. These blue eyes were famous for their clarity and penetrative quality. They have been known to glimmer and twinkle with lightness and mischief as easily as they hardened into shards of opaque ice. They were marked with fine lines around the corners that told many instances in which the bearer had winced at the testament of human cruelty and depravity. Right now they beamed for a heartbeat on every other occupant in the room, flickering to the extreme left when the person at the head of the table got to his feet.

"Alright then, let's get this done with." He snapped open his briefcase and the sound bounced along the walls with startling strength, sending every eye toward the small box. "We've watched this go on for long enough but it seems that the higher ups are determined to keep hush-hush about this."

A rustle moved through all six and the woman murmured. "This is as unofficial as an official investigation gets. There is only so much protection we can give you two so _do_ be careful about how you do this." Her eyes swiveled to the blond and he squirmed uncomfortably, eliciting a small chuckle from the other man, who leaned closer with a raised eyebrow.

"So what's this hush-hush case?"

The man at the head of the table withdrew a folder from his briefcase and slid it down. "Take a look at that."

The two men leaned in for a closer inspection and a second glance told them that the file was a compilation of unsolved murder cases. Leon leaned back and shrugged. "Okay?"

His casual comment was directed toward the woman, who shook her head.

"Yes there are all murder cases, officially we're calling them ongoing investigations but unofficially they are as cold as the North Pole. All of them unrelated murders that have only two things in common; they all involve the death of a human by unexplainable causes. Most of them are animal related, including the rash of new ones this month." She passed down a thinner dossier to the pair.

"But then why are you handing this to us and not the animal control?" The interruption came from the darker haired man and the head of the table withdrew a third folder, sending it toward the pair.

"Now look at that."

He flipped the folder and both men frowned. It was a single picture but they didn't know what they were supposed to be looking for or rather, there was simply too much to point out from this picture. It was of a- well neither of them could really be sure because it looked more like a composite of many faces. Many good looking faces that came together in almost flawless androgyny. A pale face with jet black hair cut in a short bob, the feather thin tresses shielding much of one half from view, high cheekbones and a patrician nose… mouth curved into what seemed like a discreetly mocking smile.

From first glance the J.C. could tell that this picture had been taken without permission, probably from a stealth camera hidden inside a pen, but it seemed it hadn't caught the subject unawares. The blond was more interested in the dark lashed, deep golden eye that seemed to beam out like a laser. The faint lift of the eyebrow told him that this person, whoever it was, was no common citizen. They were looking at a person of breeding, nobility even and that was almost an absurdity but there was still that regal air surrounding the face…

"…He owns a pet shop in Chinatown."

He looked up to find that the conversation had been going on without him and turned to the dark haired man. "Who's he?"

The latter shrugged and flipped the folder shut. "Some sort of Count, she said, calls himself Count D or something like that."

The blonde couldn't resist chuckling and shaking his head. "Wow, that's quite interesting...another one of those crackpots, eh?"

The woman cleared her throat rather loudly to get their attention and continued. "That is the only other common thread these cases have. The individuals in these murders all found their ways to this Count D character's pet shop within weeks and sometimes even days of their deaths. We don't know yet how that is related to our feline murders, but that's where you two come in."

The dark haired man's interest was certainly piqued now. "So you think there's something more to this guy? Perhaps the pet shop is just a front for something else?"

She hesitated and then looked down at her hands. "....We do not know and that's why you two are here."

Her eyes lifted and trained hard on the pair, mouth pressing into a thin line. "Your track records with the force is one of the reasons you were reassigned from your respective divisions to the S.C.D. Though sometimes your methods leave much to be desired, you always get the job done. We will be handing this over to you with just two other things to keep in mind. Although you technically have full discretion in how you handle this, any false step and you're on your own. This is an unofficial investigation and as such do not expect us to protect you from your mistakes. Another thing, I'd advise you to take this case a little more seriously than most. This Count D fellow has friends all over the place…and I mean all over."

They nodded and a visible change came over the director as a relaxed expression appeared on her face. "Alright then gentlemen, go bring us a conviction."

The two young men walked out of the room, one holding the cases while the other clutched the folder containing the suspect's picture. They walked down the silent corridor without speaking and took the elevator down to the ground level, where the normal signs of life immediately ushered them back to the real world. The blond turned to his partner and nudged him slightly. "Well J.C., I have a tingling feeling all over about this one…I like this feeling."

The other man pulled a face; his partner had 'tingling' sixth sense instinct for particularly difficult cases but he couldn't really say he didn't welcome the thought of some bare bones knuckling down. After the stream of mundane cases they'd plowed through in the past few weeks of working together, this was a refreshing change of pace. "Whatever you say. So how about we pay this Count D guy a visit, huh?"

The blonde nodded as he headed for the door. "Sure thing but first, lunch cos sitting through one of Jill's lectures leaves me starving." His partner rolled his eyes but followed. Leon was right about that after all, director Jillian's lectures were known to melt the stuffing out of grown men.

***

"So we have a string of twenty something murders that are supposed to be related with no murder weapon and no signs of forced entry." Leon chuckled and edged his nose into the file his partner was reading. "Well if you want to count the fact that they all appeared to have been mysteriously mauled to death by invisible wild animals."

The other man shook his head and rubbed his face, continuing with a sigh. "Not to mention that none of them seemed to have crossed paths at any point in their lives. They are all from every scale of the social class, so there's no connection there. In fact the only common thread with the old cases is this guy. But we also think he's connected with the cat killings too."

He pushed the second file open and both men contemplated the face before them for a minute. Leon broke the spell first by getting to his feet. "Look I'm gonna need more coffee before I can face all this, seeing how we pulled an all-nighter to close the Cooperfield case yesterday."

His partner watched him head for the counter of their favorite fast food restaurant chain with an amused expression. Sometimes it was hard to believe that this crybaby was his tough as nails partner. He was just beginning to comprehend the many facets to Orcot. It went to say that there were more than many aspects to people, no matter how long one could have known them, decades or mere weeks. The blond soon returned with two steaming Styrofoam cups— both labeled in large letters, HOT— and deposited one in front of him before folding his considerable height into the small chair. "I'd say that the first order of business is to go check out this pet shop place and this Count fella, get a feel for the case. Maybe there's the off chance that he's presence in every case is just one bad case of the coinkydink."

They shared a cynical laugh at that….in the mean streets of 'Frisco, what were the odds? He shrugged and got to his feet, shutting files as he did. "Right but first, I gotta take a leak." Leon nodded and began cleaning up the remaining evidence of their rather large lunch, knowing that his partner would be heading out the door the moment he came out of the bathroom.

"Oh pardon me."

The door swung open and he was immediately bumped into by some random guy. That was 'frisco for you…hustle and bustle and nobody bothering to watch where there were going. Not much different from home, after all. His first direction was the mirror, where a quick glance was followed by an even quicker grimace. Perhaps Leon was right; the all nighter took more out of him than he'd guessed. J.C. scowled at his reflection and then stuck out a playful tongue, glad for one thing that his partner wasn't around to witness that. So much for handsome, he felt more like a teed up piece of rag, wrung through and hung out in the sun to dry. His left hand absently turned the faucet on and he bent low for a quick splash of icy cold water, hoping at least to improve the bleary expression on his face. It did little good.

Maybe it was the flu they kept carping on and on about in the small division. Five other officers had called in sick just that week alone. Perhaps it was knocking at his doorstep now. He tried once more for the cold shock treatment and then peered worriedly into his eyes. They beamed dully, like faded lamplights in need of a new bulbs. An impatient hand dragged through his hair and he exited the bathroom, emerging into the restaurant to find that his partner had already left and was waiting in the car.

"Next stop, the twilight zone and the pet shop of doom."

_There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man..._

_----------------------------------_

_Lol, I just had to do that._

_Okay, the chappies should get longer after this ^^  
_


	8. Chapter 8

Housekeeping!

**Elvina Potter: Nope, they are yet to meet up.^^**

**Zeynel: Say no more...the wait is over.**

**Anna McNarin: This story is AU to some extent because I've introduced a few foreign characters, as well as plot line. However, it won't deviate much from the Manga in the sense that the original characters and their reactions to each other wont (shouldn't) change much. D and Leon will still butt heads, only a little later than the original timeline, Jill will still be close to Leon, only as his boss. Everything else should be the same...only not really. ^^**

**Done!**

**Thanks to you all for reading and reviewing ^^**

Closer

From outside it really didn't look like the harbinger of doom they'd both expected. The car doors slammed in unison and two pairs of feet semi marched toward the low door. Leon was in front and in his characteristic charge first attitude, he pushed, stepping back in surprise when it actually creaked open in response. They stepped down a short flight of stairs that progressively darkened but somehow their eyes adjusted in time as they stepped into the interior.

The first thing that Tennyson noticed was the smell— the incense wasn't unpleasant but for some reason very familiar. He gave a customary look around, startled when his eyes met with those of a young blonde girl lounging on a couch just to his right. He nudged his partner and opened his mouth, surprised upon turning back to the right to find that the girl had disappeared.

"Welcome, gentlemen. We have everything from dogs to cats to birds to insects and reptiles. What can I do for you?"

A clear voice murmured and the two men jerked, shame faced at being so easily caught unawares. J.C. turned left toward the voice and blinked. For one thing, this Count D appeared a lot less larger than life in person than he'd been made out to be. And then he found himself thinking that the gown- dress- full length attire he wore had to be the most elaborate contrivance he'd ever seen. Even without the full glare of the sun, the brunet could make out the bold and yet elegant designs on the dress thing. It was high collar and long sleeved, which was a rarity in scorching 'Frisco, tailored in classic oriental style and replete with flowery patterns from shoulder to hem. He couldn't quite tell but guessed that the background color had to be black…or dark blue.

Why am I thinking about his dress? J.C. dragged himself into the conversation his partner had been carrying on without him.

"Count D, I presume you are the owner of this establishment," Leon began, going instantly into his 'police mode,' and the smaller man inclined his head.

"I'm afraid my grandfather is out of town at the moment and I am running the shop in his stead."

The blonde nodded and slipped both hands into his pockets in a casual stance, taking everything around them in one sweeping glance.

There were cages to his far left and right but he could make out a settee arrangement just by his partner. Behind the count stood several mounts, which he guessed were for the birds and underneath those were large fish tanks holding not just fish but lizards and even arachnids. Just what you'd expect from a pet shop. He whipped out his badge and shoved it under the Count's nose. "Detective Orcot and this is my partner Detective Tennyson. We're here to ask a few questions in connection to an ongoing investigation." It was all rushed out briskly, giving no room for any protest edgewise, and he walked away, peering with exaggerated interest around the store.

J.C. inched closer to the sofa with a frown, looking over his shoulder to murmur to the count, "How is business going?"

The other man lifted a shoulder and moved closer. "Well I cannot complain. Might you be interested in purchasing a pet from us?" He leaned toward the sofa and retrieved a sleeping raccoon that the detective hadn't even noticed though he was standing right in front of it. Before he could reply however, Leon cut in from behind.

"We're not here to buy anything and we'll be asking the questions if you don't mind."

The Count bowed his head with a ghost of a smile and stepped back, still cradling the raccoon in his arms.

"Do you recognize the person in this picture?" Leon held out a black and white still and the other man nodded slightly.

"Yes, a Mr. Tennant if I remember correctly. He was very interested in our collection of birds, and purchased a rare species of canary."

The two detectives shared a glance; there was no mention of such bird in the victim's house. The blonde nodded anyway and continued. "Well Mr. Tennant was found dead in his house last Thursday."

He gave a significant pause and the Count replied. "Really? How unfortunate."

For some reason that rang hollow in J.C.'s ears; he turned sharply toward the other man at the same time that the latter seemed to turn toward him. Perhaps because his hair shifted a little, the detective saw for the first time that the Count's other eye was startling purple.

"Mmmm-hmmm, the coroner still can't explain how a grown man's ears literally melt off without the presence of any acidic agent," Leon pressed on but the smaller man merely shrugged and moved away, setting the raccoon in a cushioned basket.

"And your point, detective, is?"

There was an edge in his voice now and both law men heard it. The blonde took a step back and gazed right up, murmuring conversationally. "We've been asking around about this pet shop of yours, Count D, and we've gotten some real funny things. You and your store have a way of turning up around murders and missing persons' cases. Some even go as far as to suggest human trafficking," He glanced back down to meet the shop owner squarely in the eyes. "What do you have to say about that?"

Count D closed his eyes briefly and then gestured with one arm around the store. "Your questions make me wonder if I am being accused of some sort of crime here." He raised an inquiring eyebrow but there was no response from the other two. "In that case then, I see no reason to continue to entertain them. This is a pet shop and I don't sell people. Only love, dreams and hope."

His statement drew a patronizing smile from Orcot, who slipped his hands back into his pockets. "Of course you do, and critters as well. I'd advise you not to take any long vacations Count, you can bet on us coming back." They moved toward the door but J.C. had the inexplicable urge to glance beyond his shoulder. His eyes fell on the cushion basket. The raccoon was gone.

As the door swung shut, a bat winged critter swooped from above and landed on the Count's shoulder. His eyes were trained on the door, a contemplative smile playing around his lips. "Of course you will be back; I am counting on it."

***

"Love hope and dreams…what a load of bull," Leon muttered to his friend, impatiently tearing apart the wrapping of his burger. He inhaled an impressive size before continuing. "I smell a rat about this guy; something tells me he's not just a random face in these murders. Did you see the look on his face when I told him about the Tennant guy turning up dead? He barely batted an eyelash! Now I don't know about you but when I find out that someone I know, even if just in passing, turns up dead, I'd try to show a little more sympathy." He turned expectantly toward his partner but didn't get a reply.

J.C.'s gaze was fixed unblinkingly on his salad but it was obvious that his mind was eons away from the meal or even the restaurant. A nudge to the ribs brought him back home, however, and he blinked rapidly, turning to the blonde with a bemused expression. "Did you say something?"

Leon shook his head with a look of mock pity and pointed toward his partner's meal. "You've been staring at that for three minutes now without blinking and you haven't heard a word I said all the while."

The brunette sighed and murmured an apology, pulling apart the plastic wrapping around his cutlery set. "I was just thinking about something…The Count said he sold that guy a rare species of canary. Well I figure he's gonna skip town as soon as possible and we can keep him around with that. If the bird is that rare, I'm sure it's illegal and there are laws about that kind of thing."

The blonde nodded and squeezed the glossy wrapping of his burger, turning toward the nearest trash can as he replied, "Good thinking, we'll have them in the office check on that." He pitched, and they both watched the ball soar through the air in a perfect arc, hitting the inside of the can as it went in.

J.C. rolled his eyes at yet another childish display from his partner and got to his feet, only to suddenly black out. "Whoa there," he gasped, gripping for the chair next to him as the floor churned and roiled.

Leon looked up at him with a frown of concern. "Hey you alright?"

His partner closed his eyes with a grimace, taking an experimental step forward after a few moments. "I think the flu thing passing around the office is getting to me." He cleared his throat and wiped a hand across his suddenly moist brow, fingers then reaching up to undo the top buttons of his shirt. "Is it me or is it getting warm in here?"

Leon shook his head and got to his feet, closing up the other man's lunch and carrying it as he did. "Nah that's just you and it seems to me that you're breaking a fever. Come on, the hospital is on our way. Let's get you checked out."

J.C. hastily shook his head, his childhood stemmed pathological dislike of hospitals coming to the surface as his face folded into a scowl. "Nah it's not that serious…I'm just gonna head on home and get some rest. Hopefully it'll pass before tomorrow." It was Wednesday and the unspoken fear was that if it didn't, then he'd be more or less hobbled until the next week.

Leon nodded and shifted his chair backward. "Sure maybe it'll pass. Anyway let's get going, I'll drive you home." J.C. still didn't have a car yet and was just getting accustomed to live without the subway.

_There's something in the air, and it's catching._


	9. Chapter 9

House Keeping!

**Anna McNarin: Calm before a storm...I hope not. ^^**

Warning!

None...(we're on a streak here)

Tiger, Tiger

"_Of all the creatures in the forest— the sky dwellers, the tree dwellers, those who crept along the ground, none was more noble or more beautiful than the great Jaguar. She was proud, and fierce, very fierce. The rumble of her laughter sent smaller creatures scattering away from her path. Her mighty roar shook the very tree tops. The great Jaguar was beautiful; her coat gleamed with every shade of gold, each marking unique, not one spot looking like the other, and yet all danced like flames over her body. No other creature could stand next to her, none could deny her magnificence."_

_Avo's warm husky voice had a sing-song quality to it, the rich smoothness of her tenor lilting now and then, sending shivers down his spine. The kitchen table was littered with open condiment bottles, tomatoes and peppers cut from the garden and fresh baked bread. _

"_Casi, do you want to hear the rest of the story?"_

_She was standing by the stove, stirring a pot, but she didn't need to turn around for him to see her dancing eyes or hear the teasing laughter in her voice. _

_The scene was so mundane and familiar, just another of the many days they spent in the kitchen making dinner and yet he was rooted to the spot, unable to speak for a moment. "This has got to be a dream."_

_She chuckled and he felt another pang. "Verdadiero* Casi, what else can it be?"_

_He shook his head in disbelief. "I haven't dreamt about you in years, Avo."_

"_Ei*! Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?"_

_She was still stirring, not bothering to turn around and look at him._

"_Why does it sound like I've heard it before?"_

-----

J.C. opened his eyes as the words escaped his lips. He reached for the bedside lamp with one hand while propping up on the other, fighting the wave of disorientation that threatened to send him reeling. It felt so real and vivid, her chuckle still rang in his head. It felt just like those weekends when she would impose her presence on him, insisting on restocking his fridge with home cooked meals.

"_Eh Casi, you're a shame to your Avo if you must resort to ordering take out. Haven't I taught you anything?"_

He sighed and shook his head, sinking back on the pillows. Avo was six feet under, in New York, not outside the door of his San Francisco apartment bedroom. Maybe it was the move, the fact that he'd been uprooted from everything he was already used to. There had to be a reason for this sudden pull into the past. J.C. had spent more time than was usual for a boy in his grandmother's kitchen, sneaking snacks now and then under the pretext of helping her to cook, while she regaled him with folktales from the old country. He had forgotten them all by the time he left college, but the memories made in her home never left him.

Sappy crap, I've got to be up early tomo-today, he groused, turning the light off and rolling over unto his stomach. Hopefully he could catch the tail end of the Z's for the remaining four hours before his alarm clock ruined his life.

J.C. ended up being forty five minutes late to work. He hurried into the office, uttering a string of profanities that would make any seaman proud. Between his persistent jet lag, and the transportation kinks he faced on his commute, the detective found himself feeling more homesick with each passing work day. He paused for a moment by the elevator, took one look at the small mob already forming in front of it and shook his head. Better to take his chances with the stairs…all seven floors of it. He pushed the stairwell doors open and walked into the figure hurrying from the other side, both of them reeling a few feet from the impact.

"Damn! Sorry man."

J.C. looked up, his apologetic expression fading upon seeing it was his partner. "What the hell do you eat for breakfast, rocks ?"

Leon rolled his eyes and shouldered the door open, gesturing for the other man to follow. "Shut up, you're the one hauling your late ass in behind you. Come on man, we gotta be across town."

The brunet raised an eyebrow, noticing that his partner brought along his sidearm. "What's shaking?"

"Report of another death overnight, same MO as our kitty killer."

All brevity fled from J.C.'s face as they hastened toward the door.

***

The condominium apartment complex was a beehive by the time they made it. Leon took a look at the gathering crowd, cursing when he espied the hated news van parked in front. "These vultures are already here. Damn, I hate dealing with reporters; they're gonna take this thing and blow it outta proportion now."

The brunet couldn't agree more; distaste for reporters was a shared sentiment in police divisions all over the country. They parked close and walked into the building, pushing past the dispatch officers, irritating pressmen and ME's office attendants milling the place. Luckily, the victim's apartment was located at the second floor; a distressed looking assistant manager led them along, reiterating every now and then what bad publicity this was for the otherwise peaceful and quiet establishment. By the time they got to the actual scene of the crime, J.C. was feeling distinctly impatient with the whole world.

The ME's office had already taken care of the body and crime scene investigators were retrieving evidence. Leon reached for the closest officer. "What do we got here?"

The other man pulled a face, looking a little green at the gills by just the thought. "Franklin Emery, Forty-Eight. The man was mangled beyond recognition—we had to pull out his wallet and have his wife ID the wedding ring. It started in the bedroom, he must have struggled with the assailant and crawled out to the living room." He paused, indicating the pattern of blood smears on the pristine cream sheets, down the floor and all the way to the telephone. "Tried to call for help but he didn't make it."

J.C. fought off the bile surging in his throat and shook his head. "The assailant?"

"No sign of a break in; the front desk downstairs has everyone entering and exiting the building sign in and they saw no one except for Emery. The wife got the call at work, came in while we were already here."

They glanced across the room, to the weeping woman being comforted by another cop. Leon nodded grimly. "Thanks man."

They walked away from the gore and he nudged his partner. "Victim was mauled by a large animal." What were the odds their latest victim had a pet cat? They walked over to the recent window and J.C. cleared his throat.

"Mrs. Emery, excuse me ma'am, we're sorry for your loss."

She looked up, evidently still dazed by the events around her. "S-Sheila, please."

The brunet nodded solemnly. "Sheila, you were at work when this happened?"

Sheila made a sound of assent. "I had an early meeting to attend—I work in an advertising firm—and Frank wasn't home by the time I left this morning. He keeps late nights these days, what with the way the market has been. Frank is…" She caught herself and shook her head, fresh tears threatening to fall. "F-Frank _was_ just getting back on his feet as a broker a-and…"

Her face crumpled and J.C. hastily handed her his handkerchief. "Thank you, I'm sorry, it's just so… Things were just beginning to look up for us, you know? He was so excited about his new job; we were supposed to go out for dinner tonight. I got the call on my cell phone a-and when I got here…oh God!" A shudder rocked her system and she buried her face in the handkerchief.

The partners shared a glance; this woman was too distraught give any more information at this point. They would have better luck looking around themselves. Leon gently cleared his throat. "One last thing Sheila, you don't by any chance own a cat do you?"

She jerked up at that, looking around the living room with a growing frown. "Mercury, where is he? I left him here this morning!" Her shoulders collapsed at that. "They left the door open—he must have gotten out of the apartment."

The detectives couldn't believe their ears—was it possible?

J.C. nodded and pressed on. "How long have you had him?"

"Not very long, only about a month or so now. He's a Sphinx, you see; Frank got him for me as a birthday present because he knew I've always wanted one but they're hard to get by. A family friend of ours actually told us about this place in Chinatown, where we got him. Oh God, can you please help me look for him? He was very expensive."

***

They were standing in front of the pet shop once again, Leon preparing to rain down thunder and brimstone on their suspect. "I'm beginning to like this guy for the murders more and more, and now we have a fresh link.

J.C nodded, unconsciously dipping his head as they descended into the shop proper, the smell of incense serenading them the moment they opened the doors.

"Good afternoon…detectives," Count D murmured courteously, half bowing as they approached.

In fairness to him, the brunet had received less polite greetings from fine citizens before. He nodded while his partner grunted a response.

"How may I help you today?"

Leon showed him a picture of Franklin Emery in all his lacerated glory. Granted it was still an ongoing investigation, but the shock value of such horror usually loosened tight lips. The Count raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "If this is intended to compromise my breakfast, I must warn you that I have a strong constitution."

J.C turned aside to hide a smile, knowing his partner would like nothing more than to compromise their suspect's constitution at this point. "Mr. Emery was murdered last night, Count D."

The other man inclined his head to the side. "How unfortunate."

It was the very same thing he'd said last time, and it rang no less of insincerity.

"Yeah, sad for his wife," Leon cut in brusquely.

"People die in San Francisco every day; you of all people should know that. Why are you here, detective?"

The blonde did not back down from the cool retort. "Incidentally, he bought a pet from this store last month. Yet another victim curiously tied to your store."

J.C felt something brush against his leg and looked down, just in time to catch the blur as it leaped up to the stand next to him. It was a cat, snow white from the tip of the nose to the tail, save for the tawny gold markings on each ear. It pinned large blue eyes on the detective for a long moment and then mewled, leaned closer to rub its head against the man's hand. J.C. couldn't help smiling; he held out his hand to the feline's face and was rewarded when the cat rubbed its nose against his palm, small pink tongue leaving a moist trail from wrist to the tip of the middle finger.

"Hey there, gorgeous," the detective murmured, fingers moving of their own accord gently over the feline's satiny coat. The cat purred and arched to the side, demanding more attention.

"Are you insinuating that there is a link between this murder and my store?"

"Well can you provide an account of your whereabouts between nine and eleven this morning?"

"I was here in the store, with many customers who can verify that…"

The argument between the other two faded into the background; there was only J.C. and the cat left in the universe. He tickled between the feline's ears, chuckling when those blue lamp lights shut with an expression of pure bliss.

"You like that, don't you?"

The cat purred loudly, literally vibrating from nose to tail, and the stand shook. Though distracted by the fiery blond, Count D threw a half glance to their way, frowning slightly at the young man perched precariously on his expensive bird stand. He was arched to the human's touch with an almost wanton expression on his face, making the most indecent sounds ever.

"_Hmmm_," he purred, looking mischievously to the pet owner. _"He has wonderful hands."_

"The cat has been missing ever since. What are the odds of it finding its way back here, D?"

The Count turned back sharply, miffed by what he considered utter disrespect on the part of the detective. "That is _Count D _to you, detective. I warned Mr. Emery that the sphinx in question was a little on the wild side but he insisted on taking her. What are the odds of any half feral cat finding its way home?"

They were both interrupted when a loud purring sound filled the air. Leon stared daggers at his partner who paid him no heed, all eyes on the cat. The Count took a step closer to the pair. "You must have good hands, detective, Senna is by no means the friendliest of cats."

J.C. shrugged, briefly looking up with warm amber eyes for a moment. "You just have to know where to touch." His smile turned mischievous as he stroked under Senna's chin and the feline let out another deep purr, rising almost to the tip toes as its body followed the human's hands. Count D's eyebrow's shot up with the orgasmic sound his young charge made, thankful that the other two couldn't see what he saw.

Leon cleared his throat impatiently. "In that case then, keep an eye out for the cat. Maybe it will bring something home."

The Count chuckled, a sound that was both light and menacing. "I am sure she will finish with her mouse outside the door, detective."

The blonde scoffed and took a step back. "Right, whatever. We'll be back with further questions, Count."

"Do as you will," the other man replied, turning his back to the detective.

J.C sighed, gingerly extricating himself from his feline burden amidst sounds of protest from the latter. "Say, Count, you don't happen to have any big cat lying around, do ya? Say like, 200 pounds." Their eyes met and the Count smiled.

"Why detective, no cat grows that big under normal circumstances."

The brunet nodded, gesturing to his partner. "Whatever you say. We'll be back."

They exited the shop, Senna's eyes following one's movements until the door shut. He sighed and returned to his former position on the couch just as another pair emerged from within the shop. One was a young girl, with blonde curls and blue eyes. The other was a man, dark hair barely hiding the pointed horns in his head.

"Make another contract, Count?"

He shook his head wrinkling his nose as though against a bad smell. "No, just two rude humans."

The feline man on the couch laughed; it came out as a deep throated purr. "I don't know, they didn't seem so bad. Especially the other one." He yawned and stretched, an expression of content on his face. "His hands were…yum…as good as…"

The sentence went uncompleted, as he curled up into a ball and promptly fell asleep.

***

"That was a waste of time," Leon groused, snapping his seat belt on and slamming the door extra hard. His partner chuckled and shook his head.

"Not so; now we know the Count wasn't in the apartment when Emery died."

The blond nodded reluctantly. "The cat's missing, probably taken by the killer, and you know these pets come with the locator chip now days. We should get animal services to look into that. We also know that D doesn't think much of his customers, or have sympathy for them."

J.C. made a sound of assent, stretching on his seat as a long yawn ripped through him. "Yeeaaaaah, that toooooo…"

His partner raised an eyebrow and shook his head, a sly smile on his face. "Didn't get enough sleep last night? No wonder you were late."

The brunet rolled his eyes. "Shut up…I just feel a little tired. Could do with a nap about now."

Leon chuckled derisively. "Nap, yeah right. We got work to do man. There's a big kitty cat on the loose killing people, and a psycho to put away forever."

_Something eerie this way comes_

----------------------------------------

**Verdadiero: True**

**Ei: Hey!**


	10. Chapter 10

House Keeping!

**Silver Tears 11: Well, Senna's got fans! I too have a feeling J.C. is important too ^^**

**Anna McNarin: Hehe let's think too far...down that way madness lies ^^;**

**SageofAges729: Thanks for the cheer! *Scratches head* Yeah well I am not making any promises about Yaoi, but like toppled structures in an earthquake, romance between the characters is a foreseen consequence of my PSOH f-fics.**

**Elvina Potter: Yes, banter makes the world go round ^^.**

Done!

Warnings:

None! (Really on a streak now)

An Honest Mistake

By the middle of the week, the detectives had begun to gather a steady stream of information, each a little piece of the puzzle to help get a better picture of their latest victim. J.C. rubbed his face tiredly as he leaned back into his chair, propping his feet on the desk. He had been reading Franklin Emery's financial statement, sorting through the deceased finances. Franklin's life was beginning to look like a roller coaster, punctuated by highs and lows and moves all over the country.

The man had first started with a promising career in a Boston law firm, whose members represented large companies. He resigned and moved to New York, where he worked in a smaller firm, typically representing private citizens. This didn't last long—only three years, before Frank resigned and packed shop to Los Angeles, where he spent the next five years in and out of work, everything from auctioneer to used car salesman. Then he suddenly faded off the radar and moved to San Francisco, reemerging only three months ago with a new designation; Frank had given up practicing corporate law and somehow passed the Series 7 exam. He had started work with a small brokerage firm just three weeks before he was murdered.

J.C shook his head and set the report down. These were a lot of changes for a man to go through in twenty years and people generally didn't just jump in and out of things like this without a reason. Right now, everyone was focusing on the circumstances around Franklin's death but the detective was beginning to think the man's past was interesting enough. Still, twenty years was a lot to dig through and they had a limited window of time before the case began to cool.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, warding off the premonitions of a headache looming between his eyes. The deceased's widow had been more than cooperative with them, answering whatever questions they asked. Admittedly, she had only been married to Franklin for the past four years, before which the man had been a committed bachelor. They had no children; Franklin had apparently undergone medical procedures to ensure of that long before the pair met. It hadn't been a problem for Shirley, who was in her late thirties and not optimistic about her maternal prospects anyway.

Leon walked into the office and the brunet looked up, eyebrow raised askance.

"Just got off the phone with the firm Emery worked with. He was hired because one of the senior members was an old friend, repaying a favor. They said they didn't have no problems with him, not like he'd been with them for long in the first place. Remember the wife said he'd been clocking overtime hours? Well it looks like Emery was trying to reel in a big fish, doing everything he could to make sure the deal came through."

J.C. nodded, straightening up from the chair. "So he talks to this big fish in the office, stays out all night, comes home by eight and then what? He's dead by eleven thirty, from mysterious means."

The blond scoffed and slumped into the opposite chair. "The apartment cameras pick him coming in 8:05; the wife was out by 6:30 and no one came to their door between or after then. No break on, yet someone sprang a wild animal on him in the house. The killer must have been waiting for him inside the whole time." He shook his head skeptically. "_And_ their cat is still missing."

The other man rolled his eyes. "Look man, there's no way a ten pound kitty killed Franklin. I'm not buying it, whether or not they were the only two in the apartment during the time of his death. You're just trying to pin something on Count D."

Leon threw his hands in the air. "Look I'm just saying, the guy sells these people animals—animals that mysteriously disappear after their owners' deaths and no one else remember seeing."

"Except if the cat somehow managed to punch in the alarm password and open all three locks in the house…It seems to me that people are becoming more and more paranoid these days. All five of them had extra security in their houses. Don't you think it's interesting that the latest victims have only owned cats?"

The blond shrugged. "Well the streets are crazier than ever these days; I don't blame anyone for being extra conscious…that reminds me, what about that whole endangered species thing you were talking about?"

J.C. pulled a rueful face. "Since the bird in question has flown coop, except if we can literally place the illegal animals in the pet shop and witness Count D selling them, we can't bring him in on that."

"What if we get a warrant to search the premises? I bet that'll bring up interesting things."

He chuckled, picturing the small establishment in his head, replete with albino pythons and exotic monkeys. "Well…it won't hurt to try. In the mean time, we should look over the files from the other cases, see if there's something else we're leaving out."

***

It was Thursday night and all was quiet in Chinatown. Count D emerged from the bowels of his pet shop, the beaded divider clacking and tinkling gently as he parted the veil. He looked around him with a sigh of relief; it had been a hectic day and mercifully, his charges were behaving themselves. There were no squabbles to mediate or fights to come in between…no more could he ask for.

The Count crossed the room, absently taking note of the quartet lounging on his couches. Tea first, and perhaps a slice of the almond cake he bought yesterday from the nearby bakery…

"So, sounds like things have been quite interesting while I was gone," one of the four murmured with a sly smile the moment D's slender frame approached. The pet shop owner considered the remark for a moment and then shook his head.

"Not really Ten-chan, save for today's surge, business has been rather slow."

The young girl sitting next to him shook her head, playfully inching for the plate the Count had set down on the coffee table. "What about the two detectives? They came twice you know?"

"Yes do you think they'll be back soon," the third member of the party interjected.

"I do not know Senna. However, this is not the first time the pet shop has invited interest from the law," the Count murmured, eyes discretely meeting his fourth, goat horned companion who shrugged innocently.

"Senna has a crush on one of them," the girl announced with a giggle and all eyes turned on the feline.

"What with your horde already? I suppose a cat is as a cat does," Ten-chan chuckled and Senna rolled his eyes.

"What? He is really cute…for a human." The feline turned to their keeper for support but the latter shrugged vaguely.

"I wouldn't know about that."

"Of course you wouldn't, not when you were paying so much attention to his partner," Senna added mischievously. They were all startled by the instantaneous change in the Count's demeanor; his relaxed expression tightened, lips thinning into a line.

"That man is a rude, insufferable imbecile! The entire species is cognitively suspect of course, but he is another exception. No sense of propriety or decorum what so ever. Charging in here as though he owned the place, throwing accusations willy- nilly! To add insult upon injury, he dared to call me _by name_," he finished with a huff, reaching for his delicate china teacup with more force than warranted. The handle broke off with a cracking sound and he hissed in annoyance. "This is my favorite set!"

The other four watched, speechless as their handler vaulted off the couch and into the kitchen where a series of banging sounds soon followed. He returned a few minutes later with a new tea set and a placid smile, settling down next to the feline as though the episode never happened.

Ten-chan finally broke the silence with a strained laugh. "I suppose you haven't been stewing over that at all, Kami-sama."

D lifted his teacup to his lips, primly choosing to ignore the statement. He turned to the girl with a gracious smile. "Your coat can do with another brushing, Pon-chan, perhaps we should see to that tomorrow?"

The goat horned man sitting next to her got to his feet, taking advantage of the Count's distraction to exit the scene. Senna was staring at the ceiling, daydreaming no doubt about his latest love interest. Ten-chan's eyes were on their handler, his smile promising much mischief to come. He looked up and their eyes met briefly.

"Don't wait up, Count."

D didn't turn around and merely nodded as he leaned over to share his cake with Pon-chan. "Do as you will, Tetsu, but do take care."

Tetsu rolled his eyes, already walking away. "I know, no witnesses."

***

"This is Nancy Mallard reporting live from the scene of the grisly discovery city sanitation workers made early this morning. An unidentified male was found in a dumpster mangled to death, a large portion of his remains apparently eaten by a wild animal. This is coming in the wake of a similar such incident earlier this week when another man was found mauled to death in his apartment in the Whiltercraft condominium, also by a wild animal. So far, we are still waiting for the police to issue a statement concerning these strange occurrences…"

J.C. glared at the redhead just beyond him, wishing he could shove that microphone down her perky mouth. They'd been there barely an hour and already the area was chaos; the whole street was blocked to allow the ME's office and Crime Scene Investigators access to the body but that did not stop the passersby from huddling around the place, or the news vans and their camera men.

Great, media publicity and mass hysteria, just more things to contend with; now the phones would be logged by concerned citizens dropping off messages about animal sightings all over the place. By the end of the week, the Chupacabra and Bigfoot would be joining the Urban Legendz werewolves for powwows in every alleyway. For once, the detective couldn't bring himself to thin 'thank God it's Friday'.

Instinct, honed from years on the job, made him look up and he stiffened with surprise. Standing in front of him, directly across the street, was Count D. The man was holding a small confectioner's bag and his attention was on the hubbub in the alleyway, a mixture of surprise and concern on his face. J.C heard the low growl from his left and knew his partner had sighted the pet shop owner as well. The Count looked up and their eyes met, his expression a blank mask, save for the vaguely polite smile. The bi-colored eyes moved to the blonde and a corner of his mouth lifted mockingly. He inclined his head in a slight bow and the brunet hastily reached a hand for his partner, knowing that he wanted nothing more than to launch himself across the street.

"Cool it Leon, he's just taunting you."

J.C felt some of the other man's frustration, his outrage that was only being fueled by the figure smirking at them. For five seconds they stood and watch each other. The CSI van drove out of the alleyway and moved between them; by the time it pulled away, the Count was gone.

The pets looked up as the shop's front door swung open and slammed shut, a dark aura evident around their handler as he walked in. Count D swept into the kitchen, depositing his load on the counter without a word, not even registering the words of welcome his pets made. After a few minutes, Pon-chan tentatively walked into the kitchen and ventured forth.

"Count, is everything all right?"

He looked up a fraction and nodded. "Quite all right, Pon-chan."

She looked down at his shaking hands and then back up to his pale face, darkened lips almost blue from pressure. "If you say so."

The Count hurriedly filled a teacup with steaming tea and took a long sip before looking around. "Where is Tetsu-chan?" Pon-chan shrugged in the general area of the shop and he sighed. "Can you please seek him out for me? There is something I would like to discuss with him."

She left and returned with Tetsu in tow, rubbing his face and yawning.

"What's the deal Count? I was taking a nap."

One look at D's expression, however, had him stiffening with concern. The Count turned to Pon-chan, who was watching with avid interest, and gestured to the shop proper.

"Please excuse us."

Only when she was gone did he round on the Tetsu. "I have never interfered with your actions or complained against your…preferences. My only request has been that you take care not to leave any evidence."

The Tetsu frowned with growing confusion. "Yeah, so what's up?"

"Then why on earth have the humans uncovered your latest victim? In a dumpster no less!"

"What are you talking about?"

The Count slammed his teacup back on the counter, eyes narrowing with anger. "The human you ate yesterday."

Tetsu nodded and crossed his arms. "Yeah, some middle aged guy; he answered my ad in the newspaper." Rather than go hunting for his meal he decided it was easier to have them come to him, placing ads in sex magazines and websites. This way, what conscience he had over the matter would finally quieten down. "No witnesses; I made sure of that."

"I am telling you that the man was found this morning. There's growing media frenzy over the issue already."

"Count, that is not possible. There wasn't much left when I finished with him, just a few scraps and bones. I don't know about the body in the dumpster because I didn't put him in there."

D clamped his fingers over the bridge of his nose, praying for patience. "Who else could have left a half eaten human lying round? Except if there's another Totetsu suddenly prowling the streets…" The words trailed off and he removed his hand, staring sightlessly at the wall overhead. Why didn't he consider the possibility? The Count shook his head slowly, turning back to the Tetsu with an apologetic smile.

"Of course, you would not have left the remains so carelessly. Forgive me, Tetsu, I believe you."

The goat horned man raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "That's it?"

"Yes, please go back and enjoy your nap." D picked up his tea tray and walked over to the couch. That was where he sat for the rest of the day, sipping tea and staring contemplatively into the wall.

_Softly, softly treading...this way it comes_


	11. Chapter 11

House Keeping!

**Silver Tears 11: Ten-chan is one of my favorite characters and I'm glad you like him as well**

**SageofAges729: Messy...indeed. Thanks for your kind words**

**Anna McNarin: Well hate is love's ugly twin sister (or so they say)...**

Done!

Warnings:

Pottymouth-ness (finally!)

Entrapment

"I am Nancy Mallard, reporting from…."

Jill switched off the overhead television with a sound of disgust.

"Can't you put a gag on them or something?"

She looked up at the scowling blond and shook her head. "Well the matter is out of my hands; technically, we're not involved with this investigation, Homicide is. That is why I warned you two to stay below the radar. Anyway, how far have you gotten with this?"

Leon pulled a face. "Well we've been focusing on Franklin Emery, trying to figure out his involvement with the other four who were killed earlier. It looks like the same MO but what I can't figure out is why? The others were high profile people but this Emery guy doesn't fit the bill. And then last night's victim was a nobody, just some guy in the wrong place at the wrong time."

The director nodded, her expression turning grim. "A random killing—the killer is breaking from pattern."

"Well what are the odds of two different people killing with the same MO?"

J.C. listened to the other two, his head resting lightly over one hand. He thought back to Count D, looking over at the crime scene. The other man was as surprised by the death as they were. He couldn't have been involved with this. What if these cases are connected, but not in the way they been looking at it? It was just an idea looming in his head and, considering the determination with which his partner and boss were focusing on their suspect, he would need concrete evidence to sway their minds.

"Anyway, we'll keep digging. Maybe there's a link we haven't picked up."

Jill dismissed them with a weary sigh.

Once out of their boss's office, Leon dragged a hand through his hair . "Man what time is it? I could do with a beer right about now."

His partner chuckled and shook his head, raising his wrist watch to eye level. "Well lucky you, we only had to debrief her." They were walking to the elevator which, for once was deserted. It was late after all.

The blond grunted as he punched the down button. "Yeah well me and the guys will be hanging out over at Mulligan's for drinks and you're coming with. I figure it's time we gave you the proper 'Frisco welcome."

J.C. considered it for a moment. What with setting up his new place and getting acclimated to the many differences between the old--the foully hot weather being chief-- he hadn't put much thought into socializing. It didn't help that they were dealing with a double headed investigation...

"You haven't made any plans right? I mean, it's not like you know anywhere in the first place," Leon jibed, elbowing him in the side. "Come on...there'll be chicks. Who knows, you could get lucky tonight."

Well!

"Alright, I'm sold. But first, I have to get my dry cleaning."

The elevator dinged open and the other man walked in, muttering under his breath, "Dry cleaning? What the hell is that?"

***

"_One day, while the great Jaguar prowled the forest, a sudden wind blew through the trees. It was the wind of changes, bringing Sleep in its wake. Every creature slept- for a time or for ten thousand lifetimes, it did not matter- and while they slept, change happened upon the forest. The young little trees became great mighty trees, covering the face of the sun; many creatures died and new ones were born. The Jaguar awoke from her slumber to find a different world than the one she knew. She was surprised, very confused, and wandered about the strange jungle, looking for anyone or anything familiar." _

_They were in the kitchen again, the smell of boiling beans redolent in the air. J.C. wanted to remark that whatever his grandmother was stirring was in danger of burning but refrained; she always was in control anyway._

"_Let me guess, she's still searching."_

_Lurde's chuckle was a touch sarcastic. "Oh she did find something—she found man. One day, hunting in the new jungle took the Jaguar far, much farther than she'd ever prowled before, and there she came upon a strange sight. Creatures that looked nothing like any she'd ever seen, either before or after the Sleep. They had no coat like hers or scales like the fish or feathers like the birds, hairless and utterly naked. They walked on two legs, not four, neither flying nor truly creeping. And how they moved! These strange, hairless creatures jumped and danced, pounding the earth with a rhythm that woke a memory in the Jaguar, of a time before time…a time when the ancient spirits walked in the forest. She had been a cub when they ruled and they had suddenly disappeared, never to be seen again. Watching these creatures dance, the Jaguar was struck with envy, wishing she could dance along with them."_

"_Why are you telling me all this?" The brunet queried; it was one thing to dream every now and then about a loved one, but this was becoming a chain._

"_The Jaguar joined them, saying let me dance with you, but the creatures refused. They said 'you cannot dance this dance, only man can dance.' This made her very angry, because no one had ever dared cross her words before. She roared and the tree shook, her paws digging craters into the earth. 'I am the great Jaguar, the most powerful creature in this jungle and I will dance with you!' The men shook their heads again. 'No you cannot dance with us; you have too many legs. Your coat is not like our skin and you will hurt us with your claws…only man can dance this dance. You must become man, if you want to dance with us.'" _

_Her voice rose and fell as she mimicked the respective characters and by now the story was beginning to sound very familiar to J.C. "The Jaguar took off her coat and took the shape of man, so she could dance with them and be like the gods."_

"_Sim* Casi…porem*, don't you think you should clean that up?"_

_He frowned, wondering what she was talking about, and looked at his hands. They were bloody._

***

The wind chimes outside the pet shop tinkled and a shadow fell over the door. Count D stood in his usual place, the customary smile in place.

"Good afternoon sir, how may I be of service to you?"

The human was of the tall and fidgety sort, the kind that usually milled the business sector. His charcoal gray suit and black tie were expensively cut, custom made no doubt to fit his frame.

"Yeah…hello." All this while the man hadn't looked up from the electronic device he was fiddling with in his hands. The latest version of the Blackberry phone. "I'm looking for a pet for my little niece."

The Count raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "Your niece, well how kind of you! What kind of pet would the young lady be interested in, Mr….?"

" Halliwell—Ben Halliwell. I don't know, can't I get a goldfish or something?"

It was obvious the man did not really care and his indifference was beginning to irk the Count.

"A goldfish?"

The human looked up with a belabored sigh. "Look the kid has been bugging me for weeks now; her tenth birthday is coming up next week." He looked around the shop, as though really seeing it for the first time, and slowly pocketed the Blackberry device. "So I just thought, you know? Kids should grow up taking care of pets; I had a dog a few years ago. I had to eventually take it to the pound because these days, who has time to deal with that?"

D made the right sounds of interest and gestured to the back of the store. "Well one cannot deny that a man such as yourself is involved with many things. However…perhaps you might be interested in a more independent pet than a dog?" He moved a slow step closer to the customer, feather light hair parting just so to bring his liquid gold eye into focus. Their gaze held and lingered for a long moment and then he looked down, walking away. "But of course, you are more concerned with the young lady…"

"No wait! Forget about the kid…she's got all those allergies anyway. What kind of pet are you talking about?"

The pet shop owner walked toward the beaded divider and parted it, gesturing that the human follow. "Right this way sir." They walked into the tunnel like interior for a few minutes, during which he could smell his customer's mounting trepidation on his sweat; the ever trusty human subconscious kicking in, warning about the many dangers he was walking in to. Before the man could second guess his decision, however, D stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, stepping aside. "If you please."

They walked into the brightly lit room, tastefully decorated in muted shades of red, orange and gold. There were several couches thrown here and there but their eyes were on the one in the center and the redhead figure draped over it. She didn't deign to register their presence, all attention riveted on the bottle of nail lacquer and the delicate treatment she was giving her nails. She finished the last pinkie finger and gently blew on the glittering black surface for a few seconds before finally looking up at them.

"Whoa…I thought you said you were giving me a pet. This is a woman," the man murmured, not bothering to hide his admiration.

The Count inclined his head, a small smile on his face. "I am afraid you are confused. Alini is not a woman; she's a very rare kind of wolverine—a red wolverine."

Alini smiled, giving the human the full effect of her amber gaze. He was instantly enthralled.

"Go on, see for yourself," D urged and he hesitantly moved forward, stroking the slender hand offered to him. It was soft and velvety smooth, like sleeked back fur.

"Wow."

"Would you like to take Alina home with you? I am sure she will make an excellent companion."

"Yes! I mean…yeah."

Behind him, Count's smile became a smirk and he shook his head. Humans…so predictable. "Alini, would you like to go with Mr. Ben Halliwell?"

The red wolverine nodded once and her smile became more pronounced, revealing sharp white teeth.

"Done, now all we have to do is sign the contract."

His customer nodded dazedly, not watching his way as the emerged from the bowels of the shop. "Contract, what sort of contract?"

D showed him a parchment and handed him an ornate pen. "It is very simple, you just have to obey three laws. The first is this: Despite her appearance Alini is a wolverine and like wolverines, a carnivore. You must ensure that she is fed live meat at least once every three days."

"What kind of meat?"

The Count shrugged lightly. "Nothing too small, she has a preference for large mice and rabbits. Please ensure that you do not fall lax on her feeding. The second condition is that you treat her royally; wolverines are fierce creatures and she must be regarded with respect. That should not be a problem, should it Mr. Ben Halliwell?"

The human tore his eyes away from his new find and made a sound of assent. "No, no problem."

"The third rule is one you must adhere to at all costs. Save for you, no one else should be given the privilege of seeing Alini. Keep her in your home, away from all prying eyes." D accepted the signed parchment and bowed. "The pet shop will not be liable for the consequences of breaching this contract. Comply with them, and may you two bring each other much happiness. The purpose of my shop is to bring people love, hope and dreams."

He escorted them to the door and covered Alini's face with a shawl.

"I presume you brought a car?"

"Yeah its parked right in front…the meter's probably run out now." Ben shook his head self deprecatingly. "Thanks er…"

"Count D. You are welcome, and may you both come to an expected end."

If the human thought his remark strange, he didn't show and merely led his new pet out of the shop.

The Count watched the door swung shut and heard the wind chime tinkle once again. A small silvery fox, lounging unseen on the couch, jumped down and a man straightened in its place. "So…fifty bucks says he doesn't last two months."

_Sign me up for that betting pool!_

_-------------------------------------_

_Sim: Yes_

_Porem: But/however...  
_


	12. Chapter 12

Le House Keeping!

**Anna McNarin: Ten-chan is a hustler ^^**

**SageofAges729: Don't worry, no good deed goes unpunished**

**Elvina Potter: I don't think Leon knows what pinstriped is either... and what _is_ the deal with J.C.?**

**(Stay tuned and you just might find out)**

Done

Warnings:

Pottymouth-ness

Karma

Patrick Gilman cursed softly as his rickety truck hit another bump on the road, sending a jar of pain down his troubled back. It didn't help that the evening air was so cold; damn weather men, they never get anything right. Patrick was beginning to hate these weather irregularities he faced each day. A veil of fog had settled over the road, making it near impossible to see farther than a foot beyond the dashboard. "Two weeks more, just two weeks more," he muttered under his breath, leaning closer to wipe the windscreen for the fourth time.

The only thing Patrick hated worse than driving down this road every evening was the job he had to do there. For the past twenty four years, he'd been in the city's employ as a highway maintenance officer— a glorified title for road-kill disposer. He was responsible for over thirty miles of the remote back road that wound through dense vegetation, a virtual red zone for critters that fell into the hands of unwary drivers. It was one of those thankless, dirty jobs that people never thought about, and the pay was just as miserable. His grim expression softened somewhat at the thought of his freedom.

In two weeks, Patrick would finally be able to retire and cash in on his hard earned bonus. The first thing on his mind was to take a long vacation; one of those tropic islands, what are the called? Mauo—Maui? Yeah that sounded just about right. He could just imagine it already, sitting on some white beach, the sun on his skin…or maybe he would take that trip to Ireland like he'd been planning to with Mrs. Gilman before leukemia took her from him.

He sighed and slowly pulled to the side of the road, leaving his emergency lights on. Thank goodness for the reflective gear he had on, otherwise coming out here would be a serious risk. He pulled on the thick work gloves and reached for his grip. The real stink about this job was the fact that he literally had to carry the evidence on his back. There was no trolley he could push about, nothing as sophisticated as that. Just a large bag he hauled on his shoulder, emptying if and when it got full. Which was a lot. It was as if people these days didn't even care anymore. There were laws about bashing in these critters— that much Patrick knew. He just wished the city gave people like him the power to enforce them. See how the others would feel, taking their trash off the road.

The first lump Patrick found on the road was a cat. "Not another one of these," he growled, picking the bloated form by the tail to give it a critical look. Was there some sort of virus in the air or something? In his years working shifts all over the states, Patrick had come to understand that there were many critter seasons. For a long time it was raccoon season and it was literally like they were raining from the sky. He'd picked up numerous skunks, squirrels, possum, even coyotes. There was one time he even happened upon a baby brown bear. Now it looked like cats were all in rage. In the past two months, Patrick was sure he'd picked up at least ten cats from his stretch of road.

He shook his head, squinting at the weird looking, furless bag of bones. His hands pushed back the small collar and dank loose skin around the animal's neck. "Kids, what the hell are they doing with these critters now?" The first time he noticed it was on a rainy Friday; he'd been hauling the load out of his truck when he saw the trail of blood seeping out of the bag. The cat couldn't have been dead for more than a few hours. He wouldn't come across another one for two more weeks. This one was already stiff and it looked like it had been bled dry. After that, it became a regular occurrence to find them littered at odd places on the same stretch of road.

Patrick wouldn't deny that it freaked him out a little. He was used to animals having their heads bashed in or crushed ribs but this was a whole different ball game. It meant that someone was stalking these animals and killing them. He shook his head and tossed the carcass into the bag, making a mental note to talk to someone about this. It was going on long enough now; pets with collars usually meant someone was out there looking for them. If it was kids taking out the neighborhood cats, well then they ought to get punished for it. That was what he was thinking as he began walking off.

The fog had been thickening all around him unnoticed, the yellow lights from his headlamps getting swallowed up by the swirling mists. It carpeted the air like a heavy cloak, muffling all sounds on the road. And still Patrick did not notice. He bent over what looked like another carcass on the ground, looking up just in time to be caught in the headlights of another unwary driver.

***

"You looking at the photos from the guy—Pinder's autopsy right?"

Leon lowered the folder a fraction, nodding to his partner sitting across the room. "Yeah, this guy was shredded, literally. Something made lunch meat out of him…gruesome, man." He shook his head in disgust. "I thought all the grizzly bears were extinct in Cali." Of course they both knew no grizzly could have left the wounds on Guy Pinder's body.

"What I don't get is, why him? Pinder lived in Chinatown; completely in the other side of town from Emery. He was just a high school gym teacher. Still, I'd like to know what he was doing outside that late—the ME says he died around 3 am." He threw the statement across to the other man but got no response. J.C was half slouched on his chair, head lolling over the headrest, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yo J.C!"

He flinched and jerked upright, dropping the open notes on his lap. "Er—yeah what's going on?"

The blond gave him a pointed look. "Are you okay man? You don't look good."

"Thanks a lot," J.C. retorted, rolling his eyes as he bent over to pick up the sheaves of paper. The night before and the one before that, he spent for the most part cramped up on his small sofa, going through the compiled reports on the previous murders in their investigation. Several people had worked on the cases with different interpretations of the facts, leading to a complicated reading, but at least it was better than spending endless hours tossing and turning on the bed. Of course, his solution did not much help and only seemed to be compounding the headaches he suffered nearly every day. "How are we sure it's the same guy? I mean, none of the other victims were actually eaten and Pinder was _allergic_ to cats." There was a note of amusement in his voice and the other man caught it instantly.

"You're making jokes right? Hardee ha! Well since we're on the subject of it, I talked to Jill about getting a warrant for that asshole D's shop."

The brunet raised an eyebrow, wondering why he was surprised at his partner's tenacity. "What did she say?"

"Told me it'll be hard. You know this is not the first time they've tried to nail the bastard, something about him knowing too many judges." Leon's face soured with that statement and he closed the autopsy folder. "I wonder where he was Thursday night."

J.C. remembered the expression on the Count's face at the crime scene and thought it very unlikely that he'd been anywhere near the dumpster that night, but the other man was becoming like a bulldog with this issue. "So you want us to swing by the pet shop again? There is such a thing as police harassment and Jill _did_ tell us to lay low with this."

The blond made a sound of assent, following the reasoning behind his partner's words. "We don't want to screw this up; everything has to be cast iron and legit so there's no wiggling out this time." His eyes hardened into flints and his smile turned grim. "I know there's a link between him and these murders and I'm going to find exactly what it is, no matter how long it takes. It'll be worth it to see the look on his face when I nail him to the wall."

"In the mean time, I've been thinking about something," the other man interjected. "You remember how you said Pinder seemed totally unrelated, when you look at the other circumstances to the murders in this case? Well what if he's just a red herring? Take him out of the picture for a moment, now we've got five people mysteriously killed by a wild animal in their own homes. Four of them are wealthy, important and, from the looks of things, have no relation to each other. So why is the killer targeting these people?"

Leon took a deep breath and rubbed his face. "I see what you're talking about J.C. but Jill practically planted a bull's eye on D. She wants us to go after him and…I can't blame her. Remember the way he was smirking the other day—can you honestly say your gut doesn't tell you something's up with him?"

The brunet hesitated and then nodded. "You're right; something is up with the Count but let's not be too hasty to go after him. My gut also tells me that there's something about these murders we're not looking at. I think we should dig deeper into their pasts, find out if there's a possible connection between the victims that we're missing."

The other man stared at the ceiling in silence for a long moment and then sighed. "Well I suppose we can get the people in Homicide to share whatever they get on Pinder and Emery. Fine you take two, I'll take two."

J.C. grabbed the other four brown envelopes on his desk and pushed his chair closer. "Okay here they are: Bruce Pryor was found dead in his downtown loft February 6. Dr Melissa Carter was found ten days later in her town home, and then it was Lori Mitchell's turn on March 24. Camilla Henderson died this April. You handle Pryor and Carter, I'll deal with the other two."

"Deal," Leon agreed, bolting off his chair when he looked at the time. "Uh can we put a rain check on this? I promised Brenda I'd take her to lunch today." He grabbed for his jacket and his partner raised an eyebrow.

"Brenda? I thought it was Victoria."

The detective paused by the door and shrugged. "Victoria's old news man—too clingy."

***

The humid heat of the afternoon quickly coalesced into a storm by late evening. The winds howled angrily through the streets, turning the raindrops into stinging arrows that pelted every surface. Windows and doorposts groaned and protested the elements' punishments as lightning bolts streaked across the sky in rapid succession, followed by menacing booms of thunder.

The cozy interior of the pet shop was the perfect haven from the vagaries of nature. The thick drapes over the windows gave no evidence of the caterwauling beyond, the small and discreet fireplace in the corner cheerily giving warmth and light to the resting inhabitants. The hours went by while the storm reigned in the heavens, the only sound or movement coming from the lone figure parked gracefully on a couch, attention completely taken by the book in his hands. Every now and then the Count would lean toward the coffee table and lift his teacup to his lips, nimble fingers making easy work of the process without spilling even a drop of the steaming liquid. Every now and then he would give a sigh of content and burrow deeper into the plush quilt over his legs.

Quiet evenings like this were as rare and precious as dragon eggs, he thought to himself. Between managing the fiscal and physical aspects of the shop, dealing with the oft rambunctious inhabitants, and receiving social calls from well meaning countrymen, he rarely had the time to just pick up a book and read. He had spent the past two years rereading his copy of the Xī Yóu Jì*, an effort that was becoming a futility due to the constant interruptions and impositions on his person. Because the book was so old, block printed in traditional Chinese in the 17th century and therefore very fragile, the Count shuddered at the thought of what could happen if he left it in the shop. Thank goodness for small favors, he thought to himself, refilling his teacup for the third time. He raised it to his lips and then stopped, the cup hovering between the table and the couch. A heartbeat passed and then he set it back, carefully shutting the tome and refolding it in a special protective vellum jacket as he got to his feet and made for the shop's interior.

The Count reemerged a few minutes later dressed for outside, his blue and silver cheongsam replaced by a plain black one. He covered his shoulders in a thick dark cloak and walked toward the interior, pausing for a moment to address the shadow that stepped past the beaded veil. "Duty calls; I shall not be long. Please mind the others in my stead."

Ten-chan nodded and the Count exited, following the shop's directions until he emerged outside. He moved through street after street quickly, a wraithlike figure almost blending perfectly with the darkness, his steps sure and purposeful. There was no fear of being apprehended on his way—there never was. The Count didn't have to look up at the street signs to know his way; he just knew where he was going. It was just the same way he always knew when the foolish humans breached their contract. It was a thought, a feeling followed by certainty and an irresistible pull toward his charges.

A dark smile formed on his lips as he crossed yet another street. Ten-chan's predictions were becoming uncannily accurate and he wondered just how much the Kitsune stood to win from the latest betting pool. The entire journey took no more than fifteen minutes, during which the Count covered the ten miles that stood between him and his charge. He stopped in front of a high rise apartment complex and looked up, the next thought meeting him outside the human's door. There was a repetitive claxon sound coming from within. This was when his first clue that something had gone horribly wrong. His eyes narrowed, nostrils quivering from the scent in the air.

It was blood…but it was not just human.

The lock on the door was broken and it stood ajar. The Count frowned and slowly pushed it open, walking into the grisly scene. The sound was coming from the breached alarm system in the house. There were two forms on the floor, their bloods mingling and soaking through the pristine white rug. One was Ben Halliwell; the human was splayed between the living room and the bedroom, eyes and mouth wide open in a silent scream, much of his torso a crisscross of jagged flesh and guts. Just beyond him, fur matted and sticky with blood, lay the red wolverine.

"N-no," the Count whispered eyes wide with shock and grief. He hastened to her side and pulled her limp form into his arms, anxiously searching for any sign of life, but it was too late. He had come in a few minutes too late.

"Alini…this is all my fault," he murmured, tears falling unbidden down his face. "I am sorry, I am so very sorry."

He blankly registered the wreckage around him, all signs of a vicious struggle in the apartment. There were slashes in the furniture, glittering broken glass where the television stand used to be. The wounds on his precious charge were not caused knife or gun inflicted—the common weapons the humans were deep claw marks and could only have been created by something bigger than a wolverine.

The shrill whine of approaching sirens pulled the Count out of the fog and he got to his feet, looking around him quickly. The police would arrive within minutes but there was no way he could leave her here. Let them deal with their dead; he would take care of his. He hefted her heavy form unto his shoulder and made for the window. It was a large rectangle covered with sliding glass, large enough to pass through.

The first policemen to arrive at the scene nearly went sick from the horror. It would take several minutes before anyone made a move for the virtually eviscerated body. Count D stumbled into a dark alley several miles away, blinded by the tears and too chilled to walk. Someone had walked in on Alini and her companion, forcing the breach of contract and she had been caught in the middle. Whoever it was came for the human and she was put in the crossfire— of that much he was certain. He clenched his hands, heedless of the pain as razor sharp nails bit into his palm. It was nothing compared to the growing fire in his heart. His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits of purple and gold.

A terrible sound rent the air, overshadowing the whine of the sirens and the voice of the city. It was a cry of rage, promise of retribution.

_Catch a tiger by the tail...no really...I dare you._

-----

Xī Yóu Jì: Journey to the West, Written by the Chinese scholar, Wu Cheng'en.


	13. Chapter 13

House Keeping!

** Thanks to all y'all, who have been reading this. (Don't worry, I'm constantly trying to ease the pain.)  
**

**Doumo Arigatou, minna-san**

**Especially:**

**Anna McNarin: There are many mysteries in the universe, young grasshopper. Thanks for the review ^^**

**SageofAges729: Yeah...I feel bad for anyone who walked into D on the way home.**

**(In unrelated news, a couple of bodies were found littered in the alleyways of Chinatown...)**

**Giggle-gaggle: Slacker? Who, me? *cough* Nevarrr!**

**Ahem...Right. ^^; **

Warnings:

Pottymouth-ness (yay!)

Confluence

J.C gave the dregs of his mug one last swill and downed the contents, making a face at the mix of bitter sweet cocoa. The stool next to him was littered with papers and notes, most bearing his hurried scrawl. Slogging through the victims' histories had quickly become a Herculean task, but at least he was beginning to have a clear picture of the people he was dealing with. He sighed and stretched as far as the small couch would let him, feeling the bones in his knees and ankles snap and pop.

It was late and J.C. knew he was tired; the first sign came when the letters began swimming erratically on the pages. The problem was, would he get any sleep? It was either counting sheep all night long or dreaming about dead grandmothers. He got to his feet and refilled his mug with water from the kitchen faucet, passing by the medicine on the counter. J.C. had never used sleeping pills before but push was coming to shove. He needed to be alert and focused come morning, particularly with the dangers of his job.

"Here goes nothing."

The brunet turned off the lights and crawled into bed.

***

_He was sitting on a park bench by a small brook, watching brown leaves fall into the water. "What the hell?"_

"_Language Casi, I know I taught you better."_

_She appeared next to him and he scoffed. "You are dead Avo, how bout you do me a favor and rest in peace?_

_She chuckled and shook her head, staring at the small eddies the water made as it flowed past rocks and leaves. When she did reply, it was in a voice so quiet he nearly missed it. "There is no rest for the wanderer, nor peace for the wicked." Her expression brightened as she turned back to him. "Do you remember this place? I used to bring you to this park a lot when you were little."_

_J.C. did think the place was familiar but refused to be sidetracked again. "What do you want? And why are you suddenly haunting my dreams?"_

"_Haunting? I'm only paying my dearest a visit. Are you honestly not glad to see me?"_

"_Avo you fuckin died five years ago! Now I'm either going crazy or some weird ass shit is going down here," the brunet countered and she sighed softly._

"_Do you want to continue with the story?"_

_He frowned in confusion. "What's so important about this story?"_

"_Maybe you'll find out if you listen," she retorted with a bite of impatience._

"_Will that get you out of my head?"_

"_You ungrateful little…anyway where were we?"_

_J.C. rolled his eyes. "Who knows? Um…the Jaguar wanted to dance."_

"_The Jaguar was driven by the desire to dance and so she took off her coat and cast it aside, save for a single fang so she could remember where she put it. The Jaguar joined them in their dance, and how she danced! She moved like the wind among trees, wild and giddy with delight. She danced and danced, and forgot everything else. Time moved on, the jungle became dominated by man but he had no respect for the other creatures. He killed them for food, used their fur for meat, and then just for the pleasure of it. Soon there was no other power left in the jungle, save the Jaguar. Still she danced, heedless of all around her, languishing under the consuming fire that raged in her blood. Eventually, as it is the way of all things, the magic lasted itself. She was at the edge of the jungle, exhausted and confused, utterly broken by her folly. Suddenly the human coat was too thin, too tight. Where was her coat? She could not remember where and the fang—the fang was lost!"_

_She paused and J.C. stopped himself from leaning in closer. The story was familiar but the haunting pain her voice was not. The aura of loss hung heavy between them, thickening in the silence until he could bear it no more and cleared his throat. "So what did the Jaguar do?"_

"_What could she do? Only when the veil had lifted could she see the treachery of man, that the dance of the gods was only an illusion. The jungle was no longer her domain and yet she could not live in the world of man. She might have changed her form, but not her nature. The only choice was to keep searching for the fang, for only with it could she remember where she put her coat and return to her true self."_

_There was a sense of finality about her words and it had the brunet sighing. "Okay that was quite a story…why was it so important that you tell me?"_

_His grandmother chuckled and leaned closer, tapping the bridge of his nose playfully. "Why indeed, Casi?"_

***

"This is the seventh murder—three in just this month!" Jill slammed her hands unto the hard table, looking up to glare at the four men across from her. "The sixth one people, what the hell are we doing here?" she pinned them one by one in a hard stare, feeling a bit of grim satisfaction when they squirmed uncomfortably. "You want to know where I was yesterday? With the chief; he called in Major Crimes, SID _and_ the SCD because this issue has gotten out of hand. Congratulations people, we're now officially involved—all our heads are going on the chopping block for this."

Jill paused to let the ramifications sink in and then shook her head, shoulders deflating as she gestured to the open file in front of her. "Homicide sent in the ME reports and I just got back from forensics. I had Forsythe verify what they gave me about the last guy, Ben Halliwell." She shoved the file to the two men involved with the case and it slid down, spilling the photographs within. J.C. winced at the visual details, clamping his teeth against the sudden wave of nausea that rode up his throat.

"Okay the house was broken into and the place, totally trashed," Leon commented, scanning through the photographs. "That's different, he's been very careful not to leave this kind of evidence until now."

His boss made a sound of assent. "That's not the only thing. If you read through the report you see that forensics found two different blood samples at the scene, human and animal. Based on the defensive injuries on Halliwell, it is obvious that he struggled with his assailant. Blood analysis shows that the animal is a rare kind of the species _Gulo gulo_, a russet wolverine. Problem is that they are extinct in the wild."

The two detectives shared a meaningful glance and Leon cleared his throat. "I can bring him in…for questioning."

Jill made a short sound of mirthless laughter and shook her head. "No, Count D is not involved with this."

The blond frowned, confusion evident on his face. How many other people did they knew who sold rare animals? "B-but--"

"—We've had his shop under surveillance ever since Emery's murder. He hasn't left Chinatown for any reason and was indoors when Halliwell died. We can't touch him," she retorted and he closed his mouth, knowing just how much that admission must pain her.

"I suppose there is some consolation in the whole thing. Now he's getting sloppy; it won't be long before we nab him," Paulsen murmured and they all shifted, thinking the same thought. How many people would have to die until then?

"Until then, I want you guys to keep digging. We have to shut this thing down ASAP because from what the chief said, one more death and the feds will be getting into this."

***

A somber mood hung in the pet shop, like a dark and heavy cloak, settling over the inhabitants. It was quiet and gloomy; the animals kept within their room and their cages and the only sound of life came from the occasionally swinging door when it admitted customers. Only four stayed in the shop, watching their keeper silently perform his duties.

Ten-chan sighed and shook his head. "The Count is beginning to scare me."

The curly haired girl lying next to him straightened up with a sound of assent. "It's been four days now since he said a word; during that time he hasn't eaten or drank, not even tea!"

"He's taking it hard; you know how he feels about each of us. It's like he's just lost family ya know?"

Senna distantly heard the conversation going on around him, curled up in the sofa where he was. He shut his eyes and sighed, seeing only one face in his mind.

"Still I wish he would stop starving himself though. The others are beginning to freak out. Senna, how are your mates doing?" Tetsu turned to the white haired feline lying next to him inquiringly but there was no response. "Senna." He nudged with his elbow but their companion was still lost.

"Hey!" Pon-chan yelled, partly in annoyance and amusement, and he flinched.

"W-what?"

The other three stared at him for a long moment and he looked blankly back.

"What are you thinking about?"

Senna blushed and looked down but his guilty expression said it all.

"Honestly!" the Tetsu snapped while Ten-chan burst into laughter. "What the hell is wrong with you? Count D is in this state and you can't even spare a thought for him."

The feline dragged a hand through his hair, a whine of frustration escaping his lips. "I can't help it anymore. It used to be a fancy but now it's an obsession. The human, he's all I can think about; his smell, his taste…the way his hands felt on my body…"

The other two males made varying sounds of disgust and he shrank away, curling back into the couch. "I'm sorry about the Count, and Alini but…please just leave me alone."

The other three shared a look of worry. This was new; Senna fell in and out of crushes literally overnight but like others of his kind, never fixated on one person, talk less a human. Before they could comment further, their keeper approached. They all felt a pang at the sight of his wan expression.

"Do you all need anything? I noticed you did not eat breakfast Ten-chan, neither did Pon-chan."

The pair in question hastily shook their heads, pasting on wide smiles on their faces. "Just not hungry, we'll eat dinner though," the Kitsune spoke for them.

Count D looked doubtful for a moment and was about to add more when Senna bolted upright with a gasp, eyes wide and alert. He heard them a heartbeat later, the heavy footsteps that he for some reason recognized.

"It seems we have visitors."

***

J.C. half glanced at his tight lipped partner and shook his head, feeling a touch amused at the other man's reticence. "Come on Leon we both agreed to come here. We've got an investigation to solve and we have to take help from any place it comes."

The blond rolled his eyes. "Whatever, I'm still gonna take everything he says with a pinch of salt." They came to the store and descended the stairs, the other man taking the lead for once. He pushed the doors open and walked in.

"Hello…Count D?"

It was darker than usual—maybe the blinds were shut? He finally found the Count standing by the corner and thought that even in the sparse light, the other man looked pale. That thought quickly disappeared with the smirk that appeared on the Count's face.

"Well good afternoon detective."

Leon's taller frame squeezed through the door and the Chinaman's expression turned sardonic. "Such an August occasion…detective."

"Yeah nice to see ya too."

The brunet rolled his eyes, feeling the tension already wafting off the two.

"Forgive my abruptness but why are you here?" The Count questioned and he took a breath, about to reply when something midsize and furry slammed into his midsection, knocking him back into the wall.

"Whoa-shit," Leon took a step closer, fingers unconsciously reaching for his side arm, amidst the Count's sound of protest. He paused upon seeing the other man's smile. "You okay?"

J.C. nodded scooping up the purring mass in his arms. 'Yup, I guess someone's happy to see me." His smile widened when the cat licked his nose and scrambled up, settling with a sound of content around his shoulders. He looked up to the pet shop owner and caught the astounded expression on his face. "If you mind I'll-"

The Count swiftly shook his head, regaining control of his emotions.

"We're here concerning the ongoing investigation we're dealing with. You've probably heard about it in the news." Leon cut in, watching as the other man's expression soured even further.

"I am afraid I do not have time for television. However, I presume you are here to throw so more harebrained and unfounded accusations my way?"

J.C. quickly shook his head. "No Count, not this time." Something rubbed around his legs and he looked down to see another pair of cats mewling at his feet. "Wow…I'm really popular here huh?"

"_Is this Senna's human?"_

"_Wow, he's preeetty."_

Count D frowned slightly at his errant charges but there was nothing he could do at this time, except bite his cheek while the two buxom women crawled all over the human.

"Well then, if not to clap me in irons, to what do I owe this harassment?"

"Hold up D, no one is harassing you."

He rounded on the blond with narrowed eyes. "I will not remind you again, _detective_, that my name is Count D!"

J.C. half heard the argument going on in the background; his feline companions had multiplied in number and proceeded to drag him over to the living room area. He soon had his hands full.

"Yeah whatever…Look _Count D_ there's a crazy guy setting wild animals on innocent people. We're trying to catch this killer and we need your help."

"My help, now you seek my help?" The Count's eyebrows rose mockingly, the colors dancing around his cheongsam as he crossed his arms."

Leon bit his tongue and the choice words that came to mind. "We need your help. People are dying all over the place and its causing mass hysteria."

"How unfortunate."

He was stunned and it showed on his face. The Count calmly looked back while his expression flitted from surprise too outrage and then disgust. "T-that's all you can say?"

"I have told you once already—people die every day in this city. Give me one reason why I should allow myself to be put upon by the likes of you?"

"Because you could be the next victim," the detective shot back, unprepared for the hair rising cackle the other man made. It was an utterly unnerving sound, particularly since the bi-colored eyes froze over for that instant, and he glanced around for his partner.

"Well detective, perhaps I will take my chances."

Leon sighed and rubbed his face; granted he was a determined and dedicated cop, but it didn't take him much to get frustrated. He wanted to say fuck it, screw the Count and walk away, but then thought about the se victims seeking justice. "Alright Count D, perhaps my actions have been a _little_ aggressive in the past." The other man made a scoffing sound and his eye twitched. "I apologize for any disrespect."

Count D inspected him from between narrowed lashes, head inclined to the side, and then lifted a shoulder in an elegant shrug. "Your apology is accepted."

"Thanks…so you'll help us," the blond put in eagerly and he held up a forestalling hand.

"I have said no such thing." Before he could say any more, the door swung open and a pair of affluent looking men walked in. His expression instantly shifted, a more ebullient smile appearing on his face. "Good afternoon Mr. and Mr. Marsh, I presume you are here for Nanette's special treats." He took a few steps forward and paused, throwing a half glance at the sputtering detective. "You must excuse me, seeing as here are people who will actually _buy_ something. I will think about your proposal for now…come again another time."

Leon started in protest but the Chinaman was gone, beaming at the other two as though they were the best of friends. He sighed and shook his head. "At least he'll think about it. Yo J.C., get your ass up—you're still on duty."

The brunet picked himself out of the mass of fur somewhat reluctantly and straightened his mussed clothes. "Yeah…sorry about that."

His partner came closer and whistled, eyes widening at the sheer number of cats on the couch. "Ten? What are you, catnip?"

J.C. laughed with a shrug, realizing there was still one feline wrapped around his shoulders. "I don't know man, they just like me. When I was a kid, my grams and I used to end up taking care of more cats than we actually owned." It was a battle to extricate himself from the last cat's embrace; it squirmed and yowled in protest all the way down, only to hop back into his arms.

"Hey I think she really likes you."

"Actually…this is a He. Come on, I got work to do," he all but pleaded and set the cat among his companions. Leon heard the wail of bereavement as they walked away and elbowed his partner.

"Well maybe you should buy him off the Count."

"What? While we have a kitty killer on the loose—I don't think so."

***

That same evening, the Count was lounging on the couch, surrounded by his beloved creatures. His three favorite looked at each other with shared relief that he was beginning to act like himself again; the smile on his face didn't look forced and his eyes carried a flicker of fire. They would have liked to talk more, were it not for the gang of felines he was currently chiding.

"Do not think I was not aware of your shenanigans this afternoon with the detective, even if I could not intervene at the time," he admonished them, wagging a finger at the eight pairs of eyes beamed his way.

"Come now Count, we were only having fun."

"Yes, no harm."

"Just a little flirting."

"Besides, _he_ didn't seem to mind."

"Or are you jealous, Count?"

He was stunned into silence for a moment and the felines broke into giggles. "No I am not."

"Well what about the one you were talking to? He was pretty too."

"Manly!"

"So full of fire."

"I would have liked a moment with him but alas, he only had eyes for our master."

Now the Count was truly outraged. He opened his mouth to give them a piece of his mind when Ten-chan cut in.

"Oh I don't think the Count will mind that much, just hop right into his arms next time he comes around."

"That is enough from you—they are naughty enough as it is, I do not need you giving advice Ten-chan."

The Kitsune chuckled heartily, nudging the hitherto silent feline next to him. "I think someone's a little sensitive—don't you think someone's a little sensitive?"

Senna sighed impatiently and leaped down from the armrest, landing in the middle of his mates, who instantly fell silent. "I want him."

Count D's flawless features became marred with the beginnings of a frown. "Him? I do not understand, Senna."

"The detective, _my_ detective, I want him."

Sea blue eyes pinned up earnestly into the shop keeper's bi-colored gaze and he read their dead set intent. Tension descended over the gathering as the other creatures shared worried glances. The Count sucked in a slow breath and just as slowly expelled it. "Senna, you do know what happens to humans when they sign the contract."

Senna shook his head, eyes narrowing. "I didn't say I wanted to sign a contract with him. I want to _be_ with him."

A shocked gasp exploded in the room but no one paid heed. All eyes were turned to the staring contest between feline and shop keeper.

"I want him and have no intention of binding his life to you—he will belong to me and none other."

Count D's frown deepened but it was unease that flickered in his eyes, not displeasure. "I see…this is rather sudden."

Senna shrugged and tossed his white locks. "I have no reason to explain my actions to you; remember that _I_ do not have a master." His eyes flashed pure gold and the lesser felines stepped back from his royal aura. The shop keeper shut his eyes, bowing slightly in response.

"No you do not, and are free to come and go as you please. I do not presume to question your actions, any of you." The Count murmured calmly but he clenched his hands in a vice grip, casting his eyes to the ground for fear that the reveal the turbulent emotions in his heart. A cool palm cupped his face and he looked up to meet the feline's tender expression.

"Count D, forgive me for the hurt I just caused you but it cannot be helped. I have struggled against this feeling long enough; it nearly killed me when he left this afternoon without me and I made up my mind to follow him right then. I know you are thinking, I am going to lose yet another one to the humans but you will not lose me. This man is different…I don't know how but I can tell."

The shop keeper sighed and nodded. "I accept, even if I do not completely understand. Are you leaving now?"

Senna nodded, his expression both rueful and excited.

"You know how to find him," The Count inquired and he chuckled.

"Is there anything hidden from a cat?"

"No, I suppose not, especially from their king."

The next few minutes were nostalgic and emotional as the feline hugged everyone in the shop, saving the last for the keeper.

"If you ever need to come back…"

Senna made a sound of assent. "I know…" He grinned and suddenly leaned closer, planting a deeper kiss on the Count's lips. "Don't miss me too much, and good luck with _your _detective." He bounded into the shop's interior, taking the form of a feline much larger than a cat.

A collective sigh passed through the others and they looked at each other. The circle was becoming smaller—who was next? Tetsu was the first to break the silence. "Since he's gone, can I have his room?"

"Tetsu!' Pon-chan chided and he shrugged.

"What? It's bigger than mine and currently open."

He glanced pleadingly at the Count, stopping short at the lost look on the latter's face. "Cheer up, he'll be back soon. You know how slutty cats are."

This earned him a nip from the closest feline and he quickly ducked back.

"Somehow, I don't think so," Ten-chan murmured contemplatively. "It felt like a real goodbye. That human will never know his luck."

One of the other cats leaped up to Senna's former position, an unreadable expression on her face. "That's the thing, and I can't really blame him; being touched by that human, it felt good….really good. We've been groomed often enough by the Count to tell the difference and If I didn't know better, I would have thought—" She stopped herself and shook her head, but one of her sisters continued the sentence.

"Well, he didn't seem..."

***

It was late when J.C. stumbled back into his apartment building, feeling as though he'd been manhandled by a mob of 'Frisco whores. He ached all over and felt a bone deep tiredness—the kind that he would normally associate to a good night of gettin' sum, like his partner usually put it. Well he'd been getting none and maybe that had to do with his general feeling of malaise these past few weeks. The detective sighed a word of thanks to any greater power above for a relatively quiet workday as he trudged up the stairs—the elevator had broken down again.

He had big plans for the night, and they involved the left over pizza in his fridge. That and a bottle of water, and dinner was served! A smile touched his lips as he came to his floor but it faded because there was something in front of this door. From this distance he couldn't tell what it was and cautiously approached, reaching for his sidearm just in case. The felons and troublemakers he worked with were known to leave 'presents' every now and then. What could it be? Would he have to call the bomb unit? A few more steps closer revealed it was…

A cat.

The white feline was curled up into a ball in front of his door, fast asleep, and J.C. recognized it instantly. "You, crap!"

'You, crap' promptly opened his blue lamp lights and stretched to his feet, mewling as he looked up expectantly at the human.

"What are you—how did you get here?"

The cat gave no reply but looked very pleased with himself and began washing his coat. The brunet just stared at him for a long moment until he gestured to the still shut door as though to say, won't he open it? J.C. shook his head and complied, muttering to himself about trouble on four legs. The feline minced in and made for the couch, curling up on it as though he owned the house.

"Hey don't get too comfy, I'm hauling your ass back to the pet shop first thing tomorrow," the detective growled from the kitchen where he warmed his pizza. He was about to leave when he remembered the house guest. There were only two slices of pizza and he sure as hell wasn't sharing. Oh right, he had a can of tuna lying around from last week's grocery shopping. J.C. hunted around for the tuna and found it wedged in the cupboard; he opened it and emptied the contents on one of his new saucers. "This will not happen again."

The cat was already waiting when the human approached the sofa and climbed into his arms the moment he sat. "Whoa, whoa there, aren't you even gonna eat?"

He sniffed at the fish and condescendingly turned his face away.

"Well bite me, that's all I have," J.C. retorted defensively but he couldn't stay angry at the pest. Before he knew it, there was a feline was sprawled on his laps, purring now and then to direct his fingers where to scratch. "Give 'em a fuckin inch," he growled to himself, reaching over to turn on the television.

Soon the detective couldn't keep his eyes open and bowed to nature. He glanced at the sleeping cat and rolled his eyes, easing him to the empty space on the couch. Clean up took all of one minute and he made for the bedroom, only to be arrested at the threshold by a pained mewl.

"What?" He turned around, startled to find the feline just a few feet away, and gestured to the dark room. "You want to sleep in here?"

Mewl.

"I dunno if Count D will be happy if we start bonding and all…especially since you ran away from home."

J.C. could have sworn the cat rolled his eyes as he flounced in. "Well I warned you." He quickly changed into his pajamas, remembering to set the damnable alarm clock before crawling into bed. A few seconds later, there was a rustle and a noticeable depression on the bed. He shook his head in the darkness and gently pushed the cat back down.

"Oh no, only the chicks get to share this bed with me."

***

Several hours later, J.C. shifted under the covers, feeling a little too warm. In his half asleep state, he was just so conscious of a solid mass sprawled against his body. And arms, and legs.

"…thought I… told ya…stay down…"

A husky voice made a sound of protest close to his ear and soft lips moved against his skin, sending a ticklish jar down his system. "Quit complaining…go back to sleep."

And so he did, turning over to fall back into dreamless sleep.

_Only the chicks...yeah right_


	14. Chapter 14

Housekeeping!

Thanks bunches as usual to everyone still hanging on with this.....

**SageofAges729: Oh, the morning after...**

**13IsTaLkThEaKaTsUkI13: Poor JC...indeed.  
**

Vertigo

Leon Orcot, an otherwise healthy and virile twenty four year old male, decided that by the end of this murder investigation he would be needing reading glasses. The thought came to him while he sat by the window, squinting at his lap top screen and the lines of letters that were steadily becoming more blurry.

He cracked the joints in his knuckles and looked up, amending the decision because blurry vision could be a side effect of staying up until three in the morning. The detective had been spending more time digging into the pasts of the previous four victims, since leads on the more recent murders weren't much forthcoming. Consequently, he and his partner had sought help from one Chinaman, who made no promises and turned them away. That was nearly a week ago.

The first thing Leon did was to go through the listed contacts for both Pryor and Carter, just to see if they knew the same people. He had doubted it; Bruce Pryor had lived much of his life in seclusion, quietly spending his inherited millions on prime real estate property, the odd yacht here and there and obscure paintings by unheard of and yet top of the line artists. Melissa Carter on the other hand, owned a small but very successful private practice in the Bay area as a pediatrician. There wasn't much information he could get on Pryor—the man handled everything financial through third party agencies—and so the detective focused his attention on Carter.

Thanks to the air of urgency in the division, his boss was cooperative enough to get a warrant for the doctor's patients' records, going back as far as she'd established her clinic. Thank goodness for the age of technology; the clinic sent them via flash drive and Leon then spent the next three days and nights painstakingly squinting at his computer screen, hoping to find a familiar name in the list of hundreds.

He searched back to the very beginning, when the clinic opened twelve years ago, and was about giving up when Pryor's name popped up again. But it wasn't Bruce Pryor who was registered to the clinic, but a Tristan. There were no records of the millionaire having any children; he married once and was divorced two years later. Reason, irreconcilable differences. But that did not necessarily mean he couldn't have. Bruce Pryor's last living link was his ex-wife, now Mrs. Delia Jamison. She lived, coincidentally enough, in Chinatown.

***

J.C. woke up feeling utterly relaxed and refreshed, perhaps for the first time since he moved to San Francisco. He stretched lazily on the bed, enjoying the feel of the sun streaming in from the opposite window, a silly smile forming on his face. Amazing what a good night's sleep can do to a person, he thought, no dreams at all!

Well, except for a few weird moments when he was dreaming that there was someone else in his bed, taking up all the space. The brunet chuckled at the idea—not getting any was beginning to get into his head too. Well, there wasn't time to think about that. He rolled off the bed and made for the bathroom, thinking about the things on the itinerary for the day. J.C. was done with his toiletries and about leaving for work when he realized that the cat was gone.

"What the hell?"

He frowned and looked around the living room, ducked under the bed just to be sure and checked the kitchen but there was still no sign of the runaway feline. Time was running out and he didn't want to be late. His eyes paused on the bathroom door and he rolled his eyes. "Fine!" He shoved the door open and glared around.

It was empty.

So where… J.C. caught his expression off the cabinet mirror and was surprised by the concern and worry in his eyes. Well it was because of what the Count would do if his precious cat went missing; for some reason the detective knew it wouldn't be pretty. A warm breeze blew in and he noticed that the bathroom window was open. Of course.

J.C. shook his head and walked out, grabbing his files off the counter as he exited the apartment.

***

"Hey Jace!"

The brunet rolled his eyes when the familiar voice boomed from outside. Someone was in a good mood today. "Just when I was getting used to the peace and quiet." Admittedly, he was a little worried when the blonde didn't show up for work on time like he usually did and the apprehension only grew when the calls to his cell phone went unpicked. "I thought you wasn't gonna show up today, ya know, call in sick or something."

Leon shrugged and sank into his chair, the contraption deflating under his weight and enthusiasm. "Nah, had somewhere to be early."

J.C. raised an eyebrow. "Business or the _other_ business?"

"Business…remember how you were saying there had to be a link between the victims that we were missing?"

He leaned closer with interest and the other man grinned.

"Check this out; I was going through Carter's patient list last night—well more like this morning—and I came across a name, Tristan Pryor. Coincidence right? Well I checked the address on the name and it turns out to be prime real estate, handled by a law firm called Mercer and Hopkins."

The brunet stiffened at the mention of the familiar law firm and opened his mouth to comment but his partner still wasn't done.

"Rang them up, and after putting me through all the departments, I finally got ahold of their PR relations office. All they would tell me was that the firm has been representing the interest of the Pryor family for over thirty years. So it make sense that this Tristan is related to Bruce and way back then, Melissa Carter used to make house calls to that part of town. That's one connection established," Leon finished with a flourish and a satisfied sigh.

"That's not the only thing," the other man enjoined, and he straightened back up.

"What's up?"

J.C. reached for his notebook, flipping through the pages furiously as he spoke. "That Mercer and Hopkins that you said sounded really familiar and I know why. When Emery got kicked out of Boston, he moved to New York to work with…there, Mercer and Hopkins! That's a third connection. So the dead lawyer worked in the firm that represented the dead millionaire. What I was actually going to say is that I checked up on Ben Halliwell; he was the head psychiatrist at Cloverfield Memorial. Well what I just found out was that he was planning to resign the week he died, something about a major malpractice scandal because of the way some of the patients were being handled. Maladministration of drugs, physical assault by the guards…and look at this—one patient apparently escaped from their wards around January. They still haven't found him."

The other man whistled softly and shook his head. "Wow, what are the odds that Camilla Henderson knew your Halliwell somewhere along the line?"

"That's what I'm about to find out. I called her lawyers to release her personal information and they still haven't got back to me. In the mean time, I gotta hit Cloverfield, see what else they can tell me about Ben."

Leon nodded and got to his feet as well. "While we're at it, let's stop over at Chinatown first. There's someone I need to talk to."

"Can't you keep off your Count for a while?" J.C. didn't bother to hide his smirk, even at the face of his partner's scowl.

"Shut your face idiot. I'm going to talk to Delia Jamison—she used to be Delia Pryor."

***

Delia Jamison's home was located in the quiet part of Chinatown, away from the activity and bustle of tourists milling the shops and restaurants. They walked into the building and he buzzed her apartment number, wondering what she did with her share of the divorce money. There must have been some benefits to being a millionaire's ex-wife.

"Yes, who is it?" A mellow, feminine voice questioned and he leaned closer.

"Mrs. Jamison, this is detective Orcot from the SFPD. I spoke to you a few hours ago…"

"Oh yes! Give me a moment, I'll buzz you in."

She did and the apartment entrance doors clicked open for the pair. They took the adjacent stairs to the second floor and found her number. She let them in after the first knock. "Come in."

Delia Jamison was a woman of impressive height, standing nearly eye to eye with the blonde detective. She was slender in a graceful sort of way, with intense dark eyes that sized the other two up. Makeup did not go far to hide the crow's feet around her eyes, or the wrinkles lining her mouth, and her mass of curly hair had more streaks of gray than black, but Leon could see that Delia was once a great beauty in her youth. She led them to her living room and offered them seat. "You said you wanted to ask me some questions regarding an investigation?"

The blond nodded and leaned closer. "Yes ma'am."

"Delia please, I'm not _that_ old."

"All right, Delia. We're investigating the death of Bruce Pryor earlier this year…he was your ex-husband."

She nodded and lowered her eyes. "Yes, over twenty years ago. It seems like a lifetime now. Bruce and I met at an early Monet showcasing hosted by a mutual friend. I instantly fell for his dry wit and charm. Bruce was the quiet one, less flashy than his brother."

"His brother," J.C. cut in and she nodded.

"Well, more like half brother; they had different mothers but Julian was older. He was the more visible one, liked all the attention that came with being the son of an oil mogul. He was a real bastard."

The detectives shared a glance, taking in the venom in her words. Nowhere in their reports did it say that Bruce had a brother.

Delia shrugged and lay back unto her sofa. "They were both bastards, I just didn't know it at the time. Bruce and I dated for all of one month before we were married. It wasn't long before I found that all there was to Bruce was the sarcasm and the charm. He was just as shallow as his philandering brother—couldn't care for anyone other than himself. Bruce liked pretty things, to hoard and then and display them to others. I was just another pretty thing, something to twirl around his arm and show off at parties, galas…"

She broke off with a sigh and shook her head. "I thought I could change him, so I stuck with him. The first year passed and then the second but by then we had stopped pretending to even like each other. We spent most of that time apart, living in different coasts…I couldn't take it anymore and so I filed for divorce. We didn't even see each other throughout the whole thing, his lawyers talked with mine. Anyway, just like that and it was over."

After an appropriate pause, Leon delicately cleared his throat. "So you had no contact with him after that?"

"None; I deliberately avoided moving in the same circles as he did. So the only time I heard of him after that was occasionally in the papers or some art function. Imagine my surprise when I heard that he was dead."

"Delia, do you know if Bruce had any children?"

She laughed harshly. "Bruce? No way! For that to happen, he would first have to be intimate with someone. He didn't like physical contact. That should have been my cue to leave but…I told myself that he was just being shy."

The blond nodded, thinking about the child listed under Melissa Carter's care. "Do you know anyone called Tristan? We think he's related to Bruce"

Delia's eyes glazed over for a second and then she made a sound of assent. "Yeah…Tristan. When I first married Bruce, we stayed in their family mansion here in San Francisco. The kid used to live there with us but I had no clue. We'd spent weeks there before I actually saw him face to face. Tristan, he was a weird kid, talked to himself a lot. The few times our paths crossed, I had the feeling he was never fully out here, in reality I mean. And then there were his eyes."

She shivered and looked away. "One was black and the other was white. They kept him shut up in the back rooms—one time I asked Bruce about it and he said what his brother did with his child was his own business. We moved to the Hamptons and I guess I never saw him again…now that you mention it, I wonder whatever happened to Tristan?"

So it was confirmed; the Tristan Pryor Melissa took care of was Bruce's nephew. The next question was what did happen to him? The detectives got to their feet in unison, Leon, reaching over to shake Delia's hand. "Thanks for being so cooperative with us."

She smiled and stood as well. "Oh it's no problem, I hope this'll be helpful to you." They made for the door and she saw them out.

"So, one millionaire, one crazy kid and Melissa Carter…Where's this going?"

J.C. chuckled at his partner's nonplussed expression. "I don't know but I guess we have'ta keep connecting the dots." They were in the car, driving off when he suddenly remembered. "Oh yeah, let's head over to Count D's for a moment. Something I gotta do."

The blond's eyebrows shot up in curiosity but he held his peace, surprising the other man, who expected at least a query. They soon came to the shop and he parked in front, hesitating while the J.C. disembarked. "Hey give me a sec; there's a bakery just around the corner and Gina's been raving about their lemon cake."

"Oh _now_ it's Gina? Seriously, you're gonna give me a list of all the girls you've dated, just in case I run into a a girl I like."

Leon rolled his eyes at the jibe and walked away, leaving his partner to face the Count.

***

"Good afternoon, detective Tennyson."

J.C. gave a small, awkward wave, unsure of how to respond to the other man's bow. "Hi Count D." He looked around, expecting the usual greeting from his feline friend, but the white cat was nowhere to be found. "I thought he came back here."

The Chinaman raised an inquiring eyebrow. "I do not understand. Who came back here?"

"The cat—"

"—Senna is his name," he interjected tersely and the brunet blinked, looking down in chagrin.

"Sorry, Senna. I came home yesterday and found him sitting at my doorstep. He spent the night with me—I was planning to bring him here today but he disappeared. I thought he came back here."

Count D crossed his arms, a blank expression on his face as he made a sound of dissent. "Senna is not here and I have no reason to believe he will return. One does not choose for a cat; even if he has been in my care, it is obvious he has chosen you for his companion."

"Just like that?" J.C. remembered similar words once spoken by his grandmother. _People don't choose cats; cats choose people_. Trying to return his new best friend was going to be a futile effort. He sighed and rubbed his face, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet and credit card. A cat of such fine features like Senna probably had a pure pedigree and would cost a lot. "So um, how much are we talking about here?"

The other man didn't even glance at the card. "I am afraid this is entirely out of my hands detective. I would not think of charging you, as long as Senna is in good hands. And I _know_ he is in good hands…right, detective?"

Even though the Count was smaller and weighed less, the brunet couldn't help stiffening at the strident tone. "Right, yeah." J.C. paused and looked around. "So, just checking, does Senna have any particular diet?" Some cats were more fussy eaters than others and he remembered how the feline had turned away from tuna.

"I will advise you to become acquainted with your local butcher. Also, here is some plant based dry kibble," The shop owner disappeared beneath an upright stack of cages and reemerged, bearing a small bag of food and a plant, "As well as catnip."

The detective stared at the items warily, as though they would leap to life and bite him, but then accepted them with the Count's beckoning. "Thanks."

Just then, the door swung open and his partner walked in. "Done yet? Hey Count D. this place's like a frickin graveyard."

The Chinaman's lips thinned as the blond walked closer and he opened his mouth, about to deliver a stinging riposte, when he espied the bakery bag in the other man's hands. "For me? How unexpectedly thoughtful of you, detective."

Leon sputtered with disbelief as the bag was delicately snatched away by purple colored nails. "Wha—"

The Count turned aside to the adjacent counter and revealed its contents. "Lemon cake; it is acceptable detective but I prefer strawberry flavored pastries."

"That was for Gina," the blond growled in retort and J.C. snorted.

"Hmm?"

"Ah forget it…so did you think about my proposal?"

The shop owner's attention was fixed entirely on the cake and it took another moment for him to look up. "Detectives, it is time for tea." The men shared a confused glance and he gestured to the settee arrangement. "Please make yourselves comfortable, I shall be with you shortly."

Leon made a sound of capitulation and then trudged on to the couches. He was surprised to find that they were quite comfortable.

"Please take your feet off my table detective; it is worth a lot more than your yearly wages." Count D appeared, bearing a tray. He set it on the coffee table, ignoring the blond's mumbles, and set a tea cup in front of either man. He caught their startled expressions and hid a smile. "Tea, detective Tennyson?"

"Er—sure," J.C. blinked, looking across to his partner for support. Tea? Nevertheless, he accepted the steaming cup and took an experimental sip. It was okay, a little on the sweet side, but not bad.

"What kind of tea is this?" Leon sniffed suspiciously at the steam.

"One that is certainly brewed for more refined tastes than yours," the Count replied tartly, cutting a generous slice of the cake unto his plate. He took a dainty nibble and his expression softened somewhat. "Lavender with a hint of lemon; I am sure you will benefit much from its calming effects."

J.C. coughed into his cup, pulling an innocent face when pinned by irate azure lances. "So um Count, are you going to help us track this killer?"

"That depends, what exactly do you need me for?"

Leon hastily swallowed his tea and got a scalded mouth for his troubles. The other two watch him whimper in pain and shook their heads. "The last guy that was killed struggled with his assailants, enough to draw blood. We found animal blood samples on the scene and found its source—some kind of wolverine that's supposed to be extinct."

The Chinaman laughed; it was soft and yet chill. "I see, and of course you thought about me. I suppose I should be flattered."

J.C. shook his head, cutting in before his partner. "Not that way Count. We thought about you cos, well you were the first person we could think of who'd know about this kind of thing. We just want to know, how would someone get their hands on a wild animal like that without tripping alarms. Where would they keep it?"

Silence grew after his words and lingered until the Count finished every last bite of his cake and finished his tea. Only then did he make a sound of content and turn back to the detectives. "And what would I get in return for being cooperative with the police? Let me guess, your gratitude and perhaps a month of two of being left alone, no detective banging about my doorstep or surveillance team watching my shop?"

The other men shifted guiltily and he smiled, shaking his head ruefully. "The wolverine is native to the alpine and arctic regions of the northern hemisphere. Regretfully their numbers have been steadily declining, much like all other creatures in the wild as man continues to hunt and claim their habitats. The red wolverine is very rare and can be found only in isolated pockets of northern Mongolia. I doubt that there are more than six left in the world."

Leon knew that there were many endangered species on the planet and human interference with the biosphere was only making things worse, but somehow it sounded direr and more personal hearing it from the Count. He felt an unexpected twinge of guilt, on behalf of the human race.

"It would be obviously hard to get one's hand on such an animal. A lot of influence will be involved, seeing as one would have to know much about the wolverine to locate it. There is also a lot of money at play—many palms would be greased between here and Mongolia. Due to its nature and ranging habits, keeping the wolverine quiescent would require allowing it as much space to roam as possible…as well as ready access to the right kinds of tranquilizers. Wolverines are fierce creatures, known to bring down prey many times their size."

The blond nodded slowly. "So someone who is rich, powerful and knows a lot about wolverines…"

The shop owner sighed wearily and settled back down on his couch. "In a manner of speaking detective."

"Tell me Count D is it possible to tame an animal like that?"

He turned to J.C. with an unreadable smile. "Detective, no animal is ever 'tamed'. Many are subdued with the use of fear and pain; sooner or later, they turn on their masters. Only a few people are lucky enough to earn the trust of an animal; love bends the will of one to another…only love." With that, he got to his feet, signaling the end of their discussion. "That is all I have for you detectives, I hope it helps to apprehend the culprit. Forcing an animal to commit murders is a heinous crime."

"Yeah, and it leaves people dead too," Leon added and their host smiled blandly.

"Thank you for the cake…and the company. Do not forget these, detective Tennyson."

J.C. accepted the items pushed his way for the second time. "Yeah thanks Count D."

"We'll be back if anything new springs up," the blond called as they exited the shop and D wrinkled his nose.

"That is what I am afraid of."

He sensed the other presence in the room a heartbeat later, with the gentle flutter of leathery wings and vibration in the air as form and matter elongated.

"Welcome back, grandfather."

Sofu-D made an indiscernible sound in the back of his throat as he surveyed the used cups and half finished cake on the coffee table. "I am back safe, my grandson. What an interesting turn of events."

The Count's eyes reluctantly moved away from the door, lowering to the ground beneath his feet.

_When the cat is away...the mice will play_


	15. Chapter 15

Housekeeping!

**SageofAges729: Don't look away now....seriously ^^**

Fractures

The white cat lolled this way and that on the bed, luxuriating in the patch of light that fell over his head, not for the first time glad about his human's tastes. The black silk sheets rippled over his fur like water and he made small mewl of content as he stretched upright, taking care not to rip through the material with his nails. J.C. would not like that at all. The human was very sensitive about his bed, especially at night. But now, while he was away, there was no one to question the cat's actions.

Senna got to his feet and arched his spine, a move that sent every bone in his back snapping and popping. This human form took some getting used to; every now and then he had to remember how the muscles worked. Still it was a fine one, he mused, looking in the opposite dresser at his reflection. The sunlight pouring into the room danced over his fair skin and brought out the gold dusting that no glamour could hide, igniting the fire in his eyes. He was slight and small boned, the slenderness easily hiding the strength of tempered steel behind every graceful move. Cherry red lips pouted in plump fullness and a pink tongue darted out playfully at the face in the mirror.

"What to do today?" Senna crossed into the living room and looked around him, eyes drinking in every feature with renewed curiosity. He'd spent the past few days getting acquainted with every crook and corner of his human's house; yesterday, he made his presence known to the other non human inhabitants of the space, the mice that lived under the cupboard, the birds that used the rafters as home…the termites that were steadily doing damage to the drywall.

He had already raided the living room and kitchen the day before that, found out that J.C.'s cable was an illegal connection even if the human didn't know it, discovered and promptly destroyed the human's dirty magazine and porn collection. They wouldn't be missed, he thought with a smirk of satisfaction. Well then, there was nowhere else except… the bedroom.

Senna's eyes lit up as he walked back into the room, walking first to the window to throw open the curtains. The room was instantly bathed in brilliance. Senna opened the closet and carefully inspected the clothes within, many still in their plastic wrappers. He reached out to touch crisp linen and smooth silk. J.C. liked to dress well indeed, and that brought a pleased smile to the feline's face because his human was conscious of his appearance.

Senna's fingers snagged in an open sleeve and the shirt slid off the hanger. It was made of fine material and pooled in his arms welcomingly. He brought it closer to his face, breathing deeply of his human's lingering scent. It was musky with a hint of spice and something else, something indefinable and wild, rooting him to the spot and filling his head with a heady feeling.

"J.C…."

He smiled and slipped the shirt on, enveloping himself in J.C.'s presence. He crossed over to the dresser and, with a smile of mischief, opened them up one by one. "Hmmm, cotton briefs, boxers….silk thong! J.C. you naughty boy," the feline giggled and raised the skimpy contraption to the light, imagining what it would look like on his human. Well there'll be plenty time for that.

The front door slammed open and Senna jerked in surprise. J.C. was back early! He quickly shut the drawers and closet, shimmying out of the shirt as footsteps approached the living room.

"Hey what you been up to?" The brunet looked up, smiling as Senna casually leaped up unto the dining table. The feline mewled once and he rolled his eyes, gesturing to the bag in his hand. "Give me a sec will ya? It's _your_ lunch in the first place." J.C. had heeded the pet shop owner's advice and 'gotten acquainted' with the nearest butcher with the quick realization that his pet would only eat freshly killed meat. No leftovers for this one, he groused, setting the assortment of meat and liver bits on the counter. Once his hands were free, he obligingly turned back to the feline, who didn't need a second invitation.

J.C. gently pushed aside the flickering tail in his line of vision, leaning over to power his laptop back on. One of the real perks of his job was the fact that he didn't necessarily have to be in the office to do his work. Thanks to technology, desk work could be done from any place. "Where was I," he murmured distantly, as the computer came out of hibernation to reveal several open web pages and doc. files. Right, he'd been going through everything Cloverfield Memorial sent on the late Dr. Halliwell. He had spent the past twenty five years in the psychiatric hospital, rising up the ranks until he became the head of the department.

There wasn't much to go by; in fact, the man's tenure had been uneventful until the recent string of events that happened in the hospital. First a patient had died of suspicious circumstances related to being given the wrong dosage of medicine, leading to a malpractice suit. A few weeks later, one of the associate doctors in the department resigned and scant two days later, the hospital witnessed its first break out. J.C. rubbed his face with a grimace—it never rains but pours. Digging through the victim's personal life didn't yield much either. Ben Halliwell was a loner, lived alone and didn't have many associations apart from work. But he did have a brother who lived in the city. The next step would be to interview the other man...once he got his hands on the address.

Senna leaned closer to stare at the screen and the brunet caught his inquisitive expression off the reflection. "This? Yeah well I'm trying to solve a murder…some guy has been killing people randomly…" He trailed off and shook his head with a rueful expression. "Look at me, talking as if you understand me, or even care about any this. Probably just thinking about your lunch right?" The feline gave him what looked suspiciously like a deadpan expression and scooted off his perch, landing in front of the keyboard. Their eyes met and held for a long moment and he mewled, as though expecting an explanation.

J.C sighed in capitulation and reached for his pet, who instantly clung close to his chest. "You're awfully cuddly for a boy. I thought the Count said you were badass. Anyway…so Leon and I have been working on this case for a while now; you know Leon, that big guy I come to the pet shop with? It's actually a bunch of murders but they've got so many similarities so we figure the same person's behind it all. Well at first the murders looked random but Leon and I, we've been digging into the Vics' pasts and would'ya know it? Not so random after all."

He chuckled and tickled the feline on the chin. "Look what I just found out about one of my vics. Camilla Henderson, big time millionaire, owns half of the country's cat food industry—" Senna snorted at that and his smile widened "—yeah whatever, not every kitty is as spoiled as you. So she dies right, mauled to death by some super cat. I finally got a hold of her lawyers—slick bastards, gave the run around the whole week—anyway they opened up her documents and you won't believe what I found out." The feline made an inquiring sound in response. "She's been married three times! Before she became Camilla Henderson she was Camilla Mills but even before then, Camilla Pryor."

***

"Let me get this straight; twelve years ago Camilla Henderson used to be married to Julian Pryor, who's Bruce's brother and the father of the missing Tristan, who was once a patient with Melissa Carter--" Leon broke off to take a breath and his partner nodded excitedly.

"And-and our guy Frank Emery worked in the same law firm that represents the Pryor family. I'm beginning to think whoever or whatever killed these people is centrally connected to all of them."

The blond nodded grimly, pushing back the sheaf of papers on his desk. "The good thing is that everything's been quiet so far. No more deaths or people turning up half eaten in dumpsters. Speaking of which, looking into Pinder's background makes it really obvious that he was a red herring—the killer just threw him in our path to send us in circles."

J.C. made a sound of assent. "Yeah but why? Until now he or she hasn't really acted scared of being caught by the police. Why are they afraid now? It could be because of all the media attention the investigation is getting now…that kind of publicity ain't good if you're keeping wild animals in your house."

"The thing is, remember what D said about the suspect? We're looking at someone who can afford ranging space for a wolverine. That's gotta be ranch size or more," his partner enjoined and they both sighed. That did not help narrow the suspect population by much.

"Anyway I'm getting Halliwell's secretary at Cloverfield to fax over a list of his regular patients from the past twenty years. That should be a big enough gap for any names to fall through."

Leon nodded and rubbed his cheek. "What are the odds that the dead doc was treating our missing 'Crazy Tristan'?"

***

"It is quite disheartening to hear of Alini's death," Sofu-D murmured over his cup of Oolong, pausing to nibble from the slice of lemon cake his grandson had served him. "But even worse, that a human is using animals to kill."

Count D nodded somberly and set down his cup, suddenly unable to finish the tea. "Because it is a human, the amount of influence I can wield over the matter has been limited indeed. However, my association with the detectives will enable me to get wind of it once they are on the right trail. Then, proper justice will be served." Their eyes met at that, molten gold to mismatched purple, and Sofu-D shrugged in graceful concession.

"I shall defer to you on this matter, seeing as you spend greater time with our charges than myself."

The Count bowed slightly in assent, looking down to his primly folded hands resting atop one knee. For some reason, the arrangement irked him and he frowned, unclasping his hands, realizing only afterward that he didn't know what else to do with them.

"And what of you?"

He blinked back to earth and looked up, eyebrow raised askance at his grandfather. "Me?"

"Surely it must have been difficult to lose one of your charges to such circumstances."

The younger warden bit the inside of his cheek as he looked away. Sofu-D was unaware of Senna's defection. He just didn't know how to present the case that one of the high creatures under his care had gone and fallen for a human, leaving the magical confines of the shop without a contract. It was not the first time it has happened but occasions like this were rare, chiefly because very few humans were ever found worthy of such honor. It puzzled the Count to no end how an insignificant detective of all people had stolen the cat king's affections, without being aware of it for crying out loud!

"I am coping as well as I can; the others have been rather sensitive and caring on my behalf. Nevertheless, I will make certain that this never happens again."

The older D stared at him for a long moment and then shook his head, feather light tresses shielding his eyes. "In light of the responsibilities you have so ably shouldered, it is easy to forget that you are yet rather young." He smiled inwardly at the self- recriminating blush on his grandson's face. "Granted we are Powers on this earth, but not so great as to fool ourselves into claiming omniscience. We can never prepare for every situation and only hope to do our best. I am sure you will learn this as you grow."

Perhaps there was a trace of affection, pride even in his eyes but it was fleeting; he got to his feet, effectively breaking the intimacy of the moment. "I leave things to your care, my grandson, while I retire and rest. It was a long journey from Japan and I fear my wings are not quite as limber they used to be."

"Never!" The Count cried involuntarily. The thought of his grandfather aging was as ludicrous as that of…the shop becoming a normal pet shop overnight.

"You flatter me," Sofu-D murmured, disappearing into the bowels of their home.

His grandson was still ruminating on this when she walked in. The doors must have swung open, and the wind chimes heralded her approach, but he heard nothing but the silence in the shop. One moment he was alone and the next, he was not. Quickly masking his startlement, the Count made for his usual position and bowed slightly.

"Good afternoon, we sell love dreams and hope. How may I be of service to you?"

Silence followed his question. One heartbeat, and then another. He slowly straightened, perplexity written all over his face at her behavior. She didn't meet his gaze; her attention was focused completely on her nails. After another full moment that felt like eternity, a slow smile spread on her face.

"I seek the keeper of this establishment."

Count D took a step forward. "That would be me."

Her smile became a chuckle. "No it would not."

His eyes widened in shock and he frowned. "I beg your pardon, my esteemed grandfather is the keeper of this shop but I oversee the establishment on his behalf."

Now she deigned to meet his gaze and he read the amusement in her odd eyes as they shifted from murky hazel to deep gold. "Well then, call your esteemed grandfather out."

Now this was becoming ridiculous. The Count's frown deepened. "I am afraid he is indisposed at the moment…" The words died in his mouth because her smile instantly disappeared and her eyes flashed what he considered a dangerous red.

"Listen to me scion of D, when the creatures of this earth called me 'ancient', your primordial ancestors were still deciding which form to take."

Every molecule of air in the room froze and for the first time in his existence, the Count was glad of his divinity. He faltered and took a step back. "Forgive me, I shall—"

"That will not be necessary as I am already here," Sofu-D's voice came gently from behind and he turned around.

"Grandfather!"

D's eyes moved to the figure standing by the door. "We have an important visitor; make tea, grandson." His light tone cut through the tension in the room like knife in butter, respectful to their guest while at the same time reassuring his grandson. "You must forgive my grandchild of his youth."

With that, her eyes swiftly turned hazel and the playful expression returned. "Well who can resist such charm?"

Before long, the table was set for tea. Count D hovered in the shadows uncertainly as the other two walked away from the door. His eyes met with his grandfather, who shook his head in a dismissing gesture, and retreated into the shop.

"This is certainly an unexpected honor; it is not often we get the chance to play host these days," Sofu-D began, handing his guest a steaming cup.

"Well these are days that deserve delicate action, wouldn't you say?"

He looked up a fraction from his cup. "So it seems." They sat in companionable silence for a while, doing nothing but drinking tea in a room conspicuously absent of former occupants.

"Speaking of delicate situations, it seems that you seem to have encountered such," she began casually and Sofu-D froze. She didn't register his action, fingers playing over the rim of her cup, lashes lowered to hide her eyes. He contemplated the statement for a moment longer and inclined his head with an easy smile, albeit a sharper gaze.

"Ah, well one must play the cards one is dealt…whichever way they spread."

She set the cup down and leaned closer, the playful smile turning sly. "However, that is only when one fully knows the game being played."

His eyebrows shot up at that, understanding dawning. "But of course; a crab does not for nothing walk in broad daylight."

"Indeed…and only the reckless pay no heed to the soldier ant's march. Two bulls cannot graze from the same spot on a field."

The Elder-D nodded slowly. "For they shall lock horns and neither shall graze on the grass."

She settled back into the couch. "I am glad then that we are in understanding."

He sighed and for a brief moment, looked every single of his many years. "I see…however, shall you not stop to think—"

"—All I ask," she cut in blithely, "is that you not interfere in what events may portray over this time and I appreciate your acquiescing to my request." They measured gazes for a moment and then he looked away, uneasy but quiescent.

She got to her feet with a sound of satisfaction and he stood as well. "Thank you Kami, for your tireless efforts."

Sofu-D followed her to the door, mixed emotions on his face. "It is stewardship our very natures cannot evade. Neither you nor I."

She said nothing, leaving just as suddenly she arrived.

Later, much later when the Count would emerge from his rooms, he would find his grandfather sitting alone and staring sightlessly into the dark. "Grandfather," he began but then hesitated, biting his dark lips.

"You are curious as to who that person is," the Elder murmured without looking at him. The ensuing silence was confirmation enough. "That is a story I shall certainly tell you…but not today." He got to his feet and started for the interior, brushing past the keeper of the shop.

_The flight of the barn swallow is the advent of winter's storm._


	16. Chapter 16

Housekeeping!

As usual, thanks to everyone that has been going along with this so far!

**SageofAges729: I'm so stoked to be able to say this: "All shall be revealeeeed!!!" lol...soon enough ^^**

**13IsTaLkThEaKaTsUkI13: Is she...is she not? **

Oh okay....this is where things start to really heat up

Seriously....don't look away now.

(Always wanted to say that too)

Warnings:

Royal pottymouth-ness

Shatter

"Okay cereal, check. Um...got the O.J, bacon, burger patties…Caesar's salad, milk!"

J.C. looked up from his list and backpedaled out of the condiment aisle, making for the dairy section. This was what he was reduced to, a fully fledged bachelor patrolling grocery store aisles with shopping lists! At least there was some consolation in the fact that the detective wouldn't be walking into anyone he knew—he could think of at least one person who would never let him live it down. There was only one bottle of whole milk left among the other selections and he reached for it, just as a slim pair of hands closed over the handle.

"Oh I'm sorry…didn't see you there."

J.C. looked up to the woman shifting back with chagrin and shook his head, relinquishing his hold on the bottle. "Ah never mind, ladies always come first."

Her eyes surreptitiously flicked up and down to give him a closer appraisal; she must have liked what she saw because her smile widened just so. "Wow a gentleman, thank you."

"My pleasure," the brunet murmured, holding her gaze for a second longer than necessary as she wheeled her cart by. He was not above giving her a full body checkout, after all she'd just done the same, taking in her slim figure, flared hips and generous backside. What was more, she was blond; J.C. had a thing for blonds. Just then, as though hearing his thoughts, she swiftly turned around and gave him a knowing wink.

Well hello!

J.C. grinned mischievously as he walked away. One thing was certain—his part of town was teeming with beautiful women. Now he could go out on a limb that they didn't already know his partner but that was a different matter entirely. The thing was, between the case and getting the hang of living in 'Frisco, the detective hadn't done much in the way of socializing. Still, that wasn't even the biggest obstacle. The greatest nemesis to his social life came in the form of a ten pound, blue eyed kitty with a jealous streak the size of the Vegas strip. Calling Senna's reaction to women in the house negative was the biggest understatement of the year.

***

_J.C. opened the door with a little more force than necessary, intending to give whichever unfortunate idiot was trying to stick restaurant coupons on his door a talking to. His irritation became surprise and pleasure when he opened it. "Hey…Cindy!"_

_Her smile widened as she shifted her weight, planting a hand on her hip. "Hi Jace, is this a bad time?"_

_He'd met Cindy at one of his partner's 'let's get some of the West coast into your system' nights at the bar. In fact, Leon had introduced them and the brunet was willing to bet he'd also given her his address._

"_No! Um…not really, just fixing stuff around the house."_

_He pushed open the door wider and she flounced in a cloud of rose perfume. Good thing I cleaned up this morning, J.C. thought exultantly as she looked around his apartment with an impressed expression. "So, what'you up to?"_

"_Oh I was just you know, in the neighborhood, thought to say hi."_

_I'm getting that bastard a box of Krispy Kremes tomorrow, he thought exultantly and sidled a step closer. "You did, well that's really nice of you."_

_At that moment, Senna walked out of the bedroom; he jumped up the usual arrangement they've made of the dining table chairs to the table itself. He gave their visitor an inquiring gaze, his head inclined to the side._

"_Oh you have a cat— that is so sweet Jace! What's its name?" Cindy was already on the move, reaching toward the feline before he could respond._

"_W-wait he's--"_

_Senna responded like a trigger, his placid countenance twisting into a snarling mask of fury and J.C. knew what had happened even without actually seeing it._

"_AAAAAAAAh!" She jumped back and a geyser of blood arced through the air._

"_OmygodI'msosorry," the detective let out in a rush as he walked toward her, but the enraged feline wasn't done. Senna leaped at her, claws fully retracted and a gleam of deadly intent in his eyes. J.C got there first and snatched him out of the air but it was all he could do to keep a hold of the rolling muscles that jerked and strained to get at the whimpering blond cowering toward the door._

_The feline finally got loose and raced toward Cindy, she screamed and desperately yanked at the door knob, opening it and stumbling out just in time. Senna shouldered the door shut and sat in front of him, lamp lights beamed on his human, who stared at him in stupefaction for a moment before racing out of the apartment._

"_Cindy wait!"_

_She was already at the apartment lobby when he got down, nursing her bleeding fingers. _

"_God I'm so sorry—I don't know what got into him."_

"_What the hell is wrong with your freak cat?"_

_Now that sent an irrational surge of anger in Senna's defense shooting up the detective. "Hey if you hadn't just reached out for him like that—"_

"_I'm gonna have rabies!"_

"_He doesn't have rabies!"_

_But she was past listening to him, rambling on and on about how this was a mistake and what the hell possessed her to leave her house? Leon was going to hear about this, the heartless jerk._

"_Look J.C, let's just forget about everything. Do something about that animal." With that, Cindy stormed out of the building, leaving him shaking his head with a perturb expression. The run back up was a record short one, the detective feeling more and more like an avenging angel with every step closer to his door. He burst in and looked around for the feline menace, who was parked on the couch as regally as a king._

"_What the hell was that?" J.C. finally regained control of his faculties, glaring at the unperturbed fiend, whose only response was to start washing his coat. It was as though the horror of just a few seconds ago was entirely a figment of his imagination. Senna mewled and straightened up, clearly unrepentant about his actions. "Why did you freak out on her like that? You're one crazy cat, do you know that? All she wanted to do was cuddle you or something but you just had to go Kamikaze on her—damn she even bled all over the place." The brunet glanced at the droplets on the ground in dismay, desperately hoping Cindy wouldn't call animal control on his ass._

"_Look if you're gonna be actin like this, I'ma keep you locked indoors whenever I have company."_

_Senna's response was a squall of protest as he jumped off the couch and to the human's feet, circling around his legs, tail languidly wrapping around his leg. _

"_Nope, don't even try to play cute and cuddly now, you little demon," J.C. retorted but the strength of his furor was already waning. The cat rubbed against him with a truly piteous sound and he sighed, feeling the last of his anger fizzle into the air. "Piece of work, I shoulda known something was up when the Count kept shoving you down my throat." Senna's big blue eyes blinked in request and he slowly leaned lower, reaching out an arm. One thing the detective still thought amazing was the fact that, no matter how many times his pet used him as a perch, not once did he get nicked on the skin. He absently tickled Senna between the ears, surveying the damage on the floor once more. "You're not getting off that easy; for this, you're sleeping on the couch tonight."_

***

J.C. thought that was the last of such debacles but Senna's wild streak revealed itself three more times since the Cindy incident. He quickly realized that the territorial feline only went feral when his visitors happened to be female. Leon had come into the apartment once or twice without any trouble. The problem was, this jealous streak was beginning to become a problem— there was no way J.C. was going celibate just because his cat had sharing issues. Unfortunately, he also happened to be one of those people who never felt comfortable spending the night in someone else's home or bed.

The only other option would be…nah, the brunet shook his head as quickly as the thought came. He might only have known Senna for a short while but there was denying that he was attached to the troublemaker. Besides, he had a sneaky feeling the cat would only come back home if he returned him to the pet shop.

***

Count D looked around him with a small sigh of content, taking a deep whiff of the clean—well more or less breathable—San Franciscan evening air. The streets of Chinatown were undergoing the usual nightly transformation, daytime shoppers giving way to the nocturnal travelers and their edgier inclinations. The young Kami took it all in with undisguised and slightly unexpected aplomb. This was his first time out of the shop in more than one week, he thought to himself, and it was somewhat reasonable for him to find the human activities diverting.

It had taken the intervention of his beloved charges— particularly a manipulative Kitsune and concerned Totetsu—not to mention his grandfather's initially subtle but increasingly forceful suggestions to get the Count out of the shop. With the troubling scents in the air, he'd insisted that it was his imperative duty to stay as close to his charges as possible.

Sofu-D had calmly responded in the lines of foreseeing his untimely demise. After all, _he_ was the steward of the shop and his grandson's 'imperative duty' only came at the occasion of his death. That single comment was loaded with enough guilt tripping to last the Count for two lifetimes and he wordlessly exited the shop, claiming the need to restock their pastry pantry.

It was as good an excuse as any other, he supposed, unconsciously wiggling to the feel of the last sharp rays of the sun over his skin. At this time the bakery would be quiet and the majority of their customers satisfied, leaving the young humans who ran the establishment in a more mellow state of mind than if he had come early.

Count D didn't like admitting that he was still sensitive to the emotional waves that wafted off humans like an aura—admitting that would bring up ethical questions related to the fact that his kind are inherently sensitive to the emotions and feelings of all animals. Humans did not deserve to be placed in such category. The walk to the bakery corner was punctuated every now and then by discreet greetings and the occasional bow from his countrymen. At least they had some sense of culture and decorum, his mind whispered, unlike the uncouth breed that dominated the population of this land.

"Come on Valerie, pick one already."

Speaking of which…Count D's eyebrow rose in disbelief at the familiar cigarette induced rasp and, as though in cosmic response, the owner impatiently backed out of the bakery.

"Look I'm just gonna wait out here."

He side stepped as the detective's solid form brushed past, schooling his expression into polite blandness when the human sensed the movement and turned aside.

"Hey it's you!"

"Good evening to you too, detective," the Kami murmured dryly, ignoring the surreptitious glances sent their way at Leon's vehement statement.

"Yeah, evening…what are you doing here?"

"Are you really this obtuse or is it a deliberate pretense of ignorance," Count D replied acidly, feeling an inexplicable thrill when the sunlight died in the blond's crystalline eyes, replaced by fire a thousand times hotter.

"Just askin a question—ya don't have to pull out insults ya know?"

"Not a pretense then." Perhaps the Kami took a little perverse pleasure in pushing the human's buttons. "Well detective, put some of those fine deductive skills of yours to use. You and I are standing in the only bakery around for blocks; it a relatively uneventful day and therefore no reason to believe either one of us would be here for any reason other than purchasing something from said bakery. Finally, I believe I did mention something to you about my confectionery preferences."

At this point she walked out and stopped. "I told them to serve the others while I decide." Her eyes caught the blond and she took a step forward, as though to assert her presence in their reality, looking from one figure to the other.

Leon blinked and turned to her. "Uh…okay," but her attention was already riveted on the hitherto silent Count. "Valerie, this is Count D."

Valerie initially didn't seem to register his words but then nodded slightly. "You're friends?"

"Huh…I guess you could say that," the detective offered warily as her eyes flitted back to the pet shop owner and stayed there. A small frown appeared on his brow as he turned back to D but it quickly disappeared in a sudden moment of clarity. She was taking in every bit of his features which, Leon although having noticed before but never fully registered, were exotic and flawless.

The Count was dressed in a striking blue dress thing, blooms of orchids and lilies flowing past one shoulder to the hem in patterns that seemed to dance in the light. It had been a rather warm day but he looked cool as cucumber in the form fitting outfit. A breeze rippled though the shop's awning, sending the Chinaman's tresses scattering over his face, revealing for a split moment the otherwise hidden molten eye before finally settling inches short of his full, dark lips.

It all took just one moment but in that moment the detective saw everything Valerie saw—everything that had been right under his nose and at the same time completely undetected. Count D was also looking at her with steady focus but where her expression wavered between admiration and envy, Leon had the startling knowledge that the pet shop owner would give an earthworm more esteem in his gaze. He cleared his throat and two pairs of eyes swiveled his way, making him quail for some reason. "Count D, this is Valerie…Val, Count D. He owns a big pet shop a few blocks away."

"Surely you are flattering me, detective. My shop is not as grand as you make it out to be," the Count murmured.

"Really? That's nice—well sorts of animals do you have, Mr. D? Goldfish, cats, dogs?"

"Indeed, as well as mice and ferrets," the shop keeper replied, finally breaking his gaze from the detective to turn to her. "Perhaps you should visit us—I am sure we can find something deserving for you." He smiled widely, enjoying her the way her eyes widened in subconscious reaction to the hidden menace in his words.

The detective on the other hand, found himself reaching for Valerie's arm, eager to end the conversation there. "Have you decided what you want?"

She shook her head and opened her mouth to reply, only to be interrupted when the part owner of the bakery came out of the shop to personally address the shop keeper.

"Good evening Count D, I hope you haven't been waiting long?"

The Kami made a sound of dissent. "Not quite, and it has been somewhat entertaining."

The man didn't have a clue as to his words but nodded all the same, handing his regular customer a large bakery bag. "Here you are, the usual assortment: strawberry shortcake, cream pie, tart and chocolate drizzle layer cake. My, I'm having a sugar rush just thinking about it."

"I appreciate your care—would you be so kind as to remind me…"

He chuckled good-naturedly and waved away the request. "No worries Count, you're squared off in our books."

Count D murmured a few more grateful words as the human walked away before turning back to the other two. "Well it was nice talking to you detective…Miss Valerie. I must be on my way." He half bowed politely and turned to go, thoughts already pulled toward the delight in his hands.

Leon watched him depart and then turned to Valerie. "Made up your mind yet?"

She wrinkled her nose. "All that talk of strawberry…I'd rather have a marble cake."

He nodded and walked in, returning a few minutes later bag in hand. "All right let's get outta here. Sheesh so much time for 3000 calories you'll guilt trip on all the way to the gym. What is it with women and this bakery?" It took the detective a moment to notice that he was walking alone and he turned around. Valerie was looking at the contents of the bag, an expression of supreme dissatisfaction on her face.

"Leon I asked for marble cake."

The blond nodded, feeling the familiar bite of impatience. "Yeah and?"

"And you got me a strawberry cake."

***

J.C. was standing at the end of a long tunnel. He knew it was a tunnel because of the distant beam of light behind him and the one eerily glowing in front. How the hell did he get here?

Was this another of those wacky dreams?

He sighed and purposefully walked toward the light, noting the bit of irony in the action. Rather than bring him to the end of the darkness however, he soon came to find that there was no end to the tunnel. The light was radiating off a larger than life sized obsidian mirror. He knew this from having seen one in the Metropolitan museum once while trying to impress one of his more artsy dates. Its surface moved like the surface of a deep lake on a clear starry night. J.C. frowned and shook his head, wondering what this was all leading to.

Where was his grandmother? Didn't she usually pick these moments to torment his rest? After a few minutes of standing in front of the mirror, he became impatient and reached for it, stiffening with surprise when his entire left hand sank into what was supposed to be solid stone. It felt cold and wet to touch and he quickly withdrew the limb, which came out completely dry. That seemed to be the trigger because a whirlpool appeared in the mirror and the darkness lifted.

J.C. was looking through the ordinary glass at a barbed wire fence, beyond which stood a block of red bricked wall. He stared at the elaborate graffiti adorning the wall, filling a vague stirring of recognition. Where was this? The view shifted to the asphalt ground and then up to the sky, as though someone was holding a camcorder. No…that wasn't it. The detective realized with a chill that he was looking through someone's eyes. The person began to walk along with the barbed wire fence, expertly moving over bits of broken bottles and trash that littered the way. Soon the path cleared to a grey wall and his 'eyes' turned right, into an alley that was startlingly familiar.

"Do you remember this place?"

His grandmother's voice came from nowhere but by now he couldn't be surprised by anything anymore. "Should I?"

The person walked confidently into the darkened alley, stumbling over a hidden limb of plank. J.C. frowned; he had known the person would stumble. The view shifted again as the eyes moved around the alley to the dumpster by the left—it was taller than this person and that fact sent a pang through the brunet.

This was not right…

"Avo, what the hell is going on here?"

"Why don't you watch and see?"

It was getting rapidly darker—it was evening—but the person's pace didn't slow as he navigated through the alley into a smaller space between two adjacent buildings. A sound came through the dark and the person stopped. J.C. shook his head, chills radiating down his spine faster now because this was too fricking familiar.

"Who's there?"

It was a childish voice but there was a thread of authority in the question. Two figures moved just ahead and the detective became aware of other small sounds. Sounds of pain.

"What's going on here?"

The other two straightened up and turned around. J.C. recognized them instantly.

"_Now_ you remember." His grandmother's voice was rich with satisfaction and something else.

"This can't be."

"What's wrong, Casi? We're only taking a trip down memory lane…yours."

"It's just J.C," one of the other two boys murmured dismissively and turned back toward the small sounds. J.C. took a few steps forward but it was still too dark to see what was making them. Right then, almost as if by magic, his vision magnified several times, a pale yellow light filling the mirror to reveal the animal cowering from the two boys. It was a kitten; it's limbs were twisted this way and that, it's eyes screwed shut in anguish.

"What the hell are you doing to it?"

The J.C.'s voice rose a few octaves and the boys shushed him.

"Shut the fuck up!"

"We're just having a little fun."

"You're torturing it," he argued and the boys swore foully.

"How 'bout you mind your business?"

"Yeah, before we mind it for you?"

There was a potent threat in their words but J.C. wasn't even looking at them. His attention was riveted on the panting kitten. "You broke her legs…what did she ever do to you?"

"Nothing…that's the point."

"Just happened to be at the wrong place…and Chazz here was wondering whether cats really feel pain."

J.C.'s eyes swiveled back to them, focusing on each boy's face with painful intensity. "She _is_ in pain, you can see that. Let her go dammit!" He pushed past them to reach the twitching kitten but was roughly shoved into the wall. The boys were older and bigger than him.

"Ya know what? When we're finished with it, we'll find out whether you really feel pain too."

One of them held him back while the other reached for the whimpering feline. There was a yowl, as well as a human scream. Darkness descended as J.C. screwed his eyes shut.

"Leave her alone!"

"Shut the fuck up!"

He opened his eyes just in time to see the fist swinging his way and his vision wobbled. The yowl intensified and from across the mirror, J.C. bit hard on his teeth to choke the sound of rage threatening to escape his lips.

"I said, LEAVE HER ALONE!"

He said it but it was with a voice far stronger and more guttural than a boy's. A yelp rent the air was one of the boys was shoved backward several feet. The other left the kitten and swung his fist uselessly into the space where J.C. once stood.

"He punched me and I blacked out here…by the time I came to, I was in the hospital…you were standing over my bed," the detective's voice was a harsh whisper.

She chuckled. "No you didn't."

The scuffling sounds ensued as the boy finally got his hold on J.C., swinging toward his stomach. There was a slapping sound as the smaller boy grabbed the approaching fist, and then a crunching sound as all the bones in his hand were smashed together.

"OWWWWWW."

The boy wailed in pain and tried to let go but it was to no use. His friend swung from the back but J.C. anticipated the blow and intercepted it with inhuman ease. He slammed the pair together and lifted them into the air, gripping them by their collar bones.

"You're about to find out if humans really feel pain."

J.C. watched, bile rising in his mouth for the next agonizing minutes as bloodcurdling screams emerged from the alley. He shut his eyes against the horrible things he was doing to the boys. "W-why? H-how? It's not possible!"

"Oh it is, you just successfully blocked it all out until now. Even as a child, you always had such a strong sense of justice…I couldn't have been more proud of you when the cops took me into the alley to see what you left of those children. Of course, they refused to believe _you_ caused that much damage—they never could explain it at all."

This was the incident that spurred his decision to join the force.

"We were attacked—I thought we were attacked by a rabid dog."

She laughed softly. "A rabid dog in the middle of the Bronx? You regained consciousness with no memory of what happened and I chose not to remind you."

J.C. looked around him in the darkness, wondering where the voice was coming from. 'Why now? Why show me all these things—why are you messing with me now!"

The darkness lifted and she was standing right next to him; her and a young boy that was his mirror image. "Because it's time."

J.C. stared at the boy's reflection— the eyes that kept changing color, the mocking smirk on his face. "Because I'm done waiting in the shadows. Alo! Casimiro, did you miss me at all?" His voice was a deep rumble, echoing through the space around them. "A hawk may think himself a sparrow but for how long?"

"No mortal shell can hold the glory of a star," Lurdes finished with a wink.

The boy took a step closer, eyes turning blood red as he held J.C. in his gaze. "My wait is over. You've had your fun, now it's my turn." He leaped forward and his form dissolved into a large mass of fangs and teeth and claws and spotted fur, striking right at J.C. through the mirror.

"No!"

The detective jerked up from the bed with a scream, terror pounding through his veins. He looked wildly this way and that in the darkness, limbs twisting and bunching into the silk sheets around his limbs.

"J.C. come back to me! It's alright…just a dream."

Cool fingers brushed back his sweat slicked hair and lips pressed against his temples.

"J-Just a dream."

"Yes my darling…only a harmless dream."

Arms tightened around his shoulders, lips skated over his neck.

"You're safe, you're with me."

A husky voice murmured into his ear. It was familiar.

"Just a dream."

J.C. was in his room…on his bed…with a stranger. He turned slowly aside, midsection clenching with ice as he met a pair of eyes, gleaming deep blue in the night.

Not a stranger.

A rod of steel entered his spine. Blue eyes widened with comprehension.

"J…C?"

_Pay no attention to that man behind the curtaaaaaaain!!!_

_----_

_Well...that was a fun write._

_I certainly hope it was a fun read._


	17. Chapter 17

HouseKeeping!

**SageofAges729**: *scratches head* I was afraid of this...that my madness may outpace the method part. Are we getting to that part (the derailment of the train of logic part) ?. About the Shounen-ai...well this story _is_ shounen-ai, even if romance isn't my strongest point... I can't apologize for my writing; all I can hope is that the story is good enough to keep people interested...no matter what.

Warnings!

(More!) potty mouthedness

Aftermath

It was late at night….or maybe early morning, he couldn't tell anyway. The car raced down the windy road, a lone wraith dancing through the mist. He glanced to the passenger seat and the lump twitching feverishly on his dark cloak, worry and anguish evident in his grip on the steering wheel. Soon he came to the familiar stretch of road and slowed down, pulling over to the rough rocky side and killed the engine.

This was the hardest part, the waiting.

It was agonizing, the feeling that came with it. The feeling as though his skin was being peeled off layer by layer. But with no pain. Except for this feeling of suspicion because there should be pain with the feeling of wrenching off skin. At least that was what he thought…he didn't really know what pain felt like in the first place.

He shivered and hugged his knees close, burying his face in the crook between. Hopefully it wouldn't take long. The last time was really miserable. He'd sat there for hours, until sunrise, and had to wait the whole day there before…before…

The lump twitched again and he whimpered in response. Why was this happening? It was not fair!

"Everyone leaves me."

He should have known it would come to this…it always came to this. He could already feel it; the all encompassing silence pressing against the edge of his mind. Darkness spreading into the usual pinpricks of buzzing light and static. He reached out in his mind but there was no response, not even an echo.

It was getting worse.

He didn't notice it at first but the silence was steadily getting longer and stronger and conversely, the periods of light in between were shorter. They weren't much help any more.

"But it's too soon."

His fingers bunched through the thin lining of his coat as the lump convulsed.

"I'm sorry."

No he wasn't…well he was a little sorry but he was also selfish. He tried to hold it on for as long as possible even though…even though…

The lump twitched again and he shook his head. It was their fault….their fault! Anger burned through him like fire and he laughed. It was light and childlike.

Yes, this wasn't time to cry…there was work to do.

But when it was all done….soon.

***

Count D was taking the hour to compose himself over a cup of sage tea. In a few minutes he would have to clean the shop up after his charges. It was surprising really, how much more they behaved themselves whenever grandfather was around. He smiled ruefully, wondering if he would ever be able to evoke that kind of unquestioned respect and deference. It seemed unlikely, not from the particular bunch in the shop.

He sighed and leaned back against the couch, savoring the last bit of the whipped strawberry cream that coated his cake. Hmmm, simply delightful. Lolling the sweetness in his mouth, the Count thought to the two humans that crossed his path. Typical, so typical of humans….they were a rather forgetful breed. It wasn't too long ago when the detective had handed him the lemon cake. Back then he wondered why—what the occasion was. The Count didn't want to believe it had come entirely out of the goodness of the detective's heart. If there was such a thing.

Bang!

The Count jerked back, frowning at the door. What was that?

Bang!

Someone was knocking but what utter lack of respect! He shot off the couch and to the door, pulling up every bit of divine power and authority—the kind that evoked unquestioned fear and trembling.

"How dare--"

The man ran in as though he was being pursued by a thousand demons, blowing past the shop keeper in his haste. Count D blinked and shut the door, turning around to the trembling feline pacing the length of his shop. "Senna, what is wrong?"

Senna shook his head, mumbling distractedly as he continued wearing the rug down.

"Senna!"

He stopped and looked around, dazed, as though not really registering where he was. "Count?"

"Yes Senna, what is wrong? What are you doing here—is anything wrong with your human?" The Count was beginning to feel worried by his charge's demeanor.

"My human…"

"Your human…detective Tennyson."

The feline closed his eyes. "J.C…."

That broke the spell; he instantly went slack, slumping unto the floor with a detected sigh. "I don't know. He-he left the apartment and I came here. I couldn't think of anywhere else to go."

His erstwhile keeper took a deep breath before parking himself on the floor as well. "Well what happened? It is rather late—early in the morning actually…"

Senna clenched his hands, staring into nothingness. "He saw me."

There was a heartbeat of puzzled silence while the Count tried to piece together the meaning behind the succinct statement. "He saw you? I do not understand."

"He saw me…J.C. can _see_ me now!" The feline bit out, a thin whine entering his voice. "We were asleep and then he started trashing about. He was having one of those nightmares--"

"—nightmares?" the Kami interjected and he nodded distractedly.

"The first night it happened, I wasn't prepared to be literally sucked into his nightmares. It took all my will to bring us back…to snap him out of it. He didn't remember any of it and I thought it wouldn't hurt to keep doing that every night." Senna sighed and rubbed his face. "But tonight was the worst. I couldn't find him, couldn't reach him at all…whatever blocked him from me was very strong. Stronger than me Count." This made Count D stiffen all over but the feline didn't notice. "And then he just jerked off the bed, screaming. His eyes were…oh by the gods they scared me. He looked right at me and just freaked!" He shivered all over, tears pooling in his eyes. "He looked at me as if I was some sort of monster—he pointed his gun at me."

The shop keeper swallowed his pang of shared hurt and hugged the feline close, hot moisture soaking through his cheongsam to his skin. "Senna…"

"Why? Couldn't he see it was me? I've never hurt a hair on his head, not even when he makes me so angry, bringing those dirty human women into the house…I love him so much and now he's gone!"

"Shhhh….take a deep breath." The Count continued to murmur comforting words to his charge until the latter calmed down somewhat. "Now I need you to listen to me for a moment, let's try to see things from his perspective." He couldn't believe he was saying this, but such strange things crept in the air this time. "Imagine if all your life you've been taught to see the world in a certain way, to believe that animals don't suddenly take human forms. And then you wake up one night to find that your beloved cat can talk to you….what would you do?"

Senna sighed and bit his lip. "I suppose that I would react in the same way. B-but I've always had a second form, _he's_ the blind one here! It's not my fault he couldn't see me for what I really am."

Count D chuckled in spite of himself at his charge's petulance. "Look at it this way, perhaps it is no one's fault. Just an unexpected event. And as for the detective not seeing you for what you really are, somehow I do not believe that. Think about it Senna, of all the felines in my shop, he chose you. And you who have never shown interest in anyone but yourself…you are instantly drawn to this one man. If I did not know better, I would say the hand of fate writes your story…" The words trailed off and he frowned, wondering what ancient knowledge was sending warning shivers down his system.

The feline made a sound of submission, his worries talked down by the shop keeper. "Perhaps but that doesn't change the fact that my love ran out into the night wearing only his college t-shirt and boxers." His spine stiffened with the ramification of that thought and he began getting to his feet. "He's somewhere out there—I have to go look for him!"

The Kami shook his head, pulling him back. "Wait Senna, where do you know to look for him? It is better if you wait here until he calms down. His Sight could be a freak occurrence, a side effect of your manipulating his subconscious. Humans have an amazing ability to rationalize even the most incredible of things and it will not be long before he starts looking for you. The detective seems to be as one who takes his commitments seriously."

Senna slowly relaxed to the voice of reason. "You're probably right. There's no sense in tearing through the streets looking for him. I'll wait here until evening and then go back home. I just hope he doesn't hate me now."

"Do not think like that, everything will be all right."

Count D smiled reassuringly as they both got up, leading his prodigal to the interior of the shop. He tried his best not to feel smug.

***

Leon glared irritably at the clock across his desk. It was one in the afternoon and his partner was still MIA. His cell phone was going straight to voice mail and the East coast cheapskate didn't install a home number. The detective willed his rising worry away. Maybe J.C. was sick, maybe he was hung over or something…still it wasn't like the other man. He remembered once when the idiot dragged his flu ridden ass up to work on a Saturday.

That was the thing; of all the days J.C. had picked to miss work. He shook his head, giving a double, triple take at the papers in his hand. Leon couldn't be gladder that he'd taken his partner's advice and followed the other man's gut feeling about their case. Admittedly he'd been hung up on the whole Count D angle, following the scent their boss threw them and too dogged to notice other inconsistencies. Of course it didn't help that those who handled the previous cases did a halfhearted attempt at best. It was obvious that there was a do not touch action from the top….perhaps that was why the blond had been so determined to undo the Count.

And he would have his chance….just not yet.

Leon was holding on the line, waiting for the records woman at Cloverfield memorial hospital to get back to him and confirm his hunch. When it turned out that their latest victim was also somehow related to the Pryor family, following the trail back to the source became easier; so much so that the story was already beginning to unfold in his eyes.

Camilla Pryor had been married to Bruce's brother Julian, who was the father of a mentally ill child, one who was taken care of by Melissa Carter as a child. Julian died about one year into his marriage and the details of his estate was handled by Franklin Emery, who named Camilla and Bruce overseers in care of Julian's financial holdings. Since that time, there has been practically no record of Tristan Pryor in the system; no school transcript, no medical or dental records, nothing.

The blonde had a feeling that he would strike gold with Halliwell.

"Thank you for holding, detective Orcot….are you still here?"

Was it a challenge to see who was more stubborn? "Yes ma'am, I'm still here."

"Well I checked through Dr. Halliwell's private patient records in the hospital for the Tristan Pryor you were asking about. There is a T. Damien P. registered in the psychiatric department but there is a pending investigation to that and I am not at liberty to divulge any details."

He rolled his eyes, pushing back his exasperation. "The thing is, we're currently in the middle of a major murder investigation and your hospital is about to be dragged into the middle of things. We just might have to recommend a full scale investigation of the hospital and everyone knows what kind of bad press that is…So why don't you just help me help you?"

She hesitated and then sighed in capitulation. "All right… fine! T. Damien P's whereabouts are listed as unclear. He escaped from our secure facilities sometime between December and January this year and is still at large."

Jackpot!

Leon controlled his excitement, asking just one more question.

***

People were hurriedly crossing the street, trying to get away from the weirdo in the t-shirt and boxers muttering to himself.

_"What the hell?"_

_"Only in 'Frisco"_

_"Well he does look kinda cute."_

_"Maybe it's one of those Old Navy sales pitches."_

J.C. clamped his hands tight over his ears but that didn't stop the voices from echoing in his head, the constant stream of noise compounding the gong sound reverberating in his skull.

"_Ay porque no!"_

"_I swear if she dresses me up in one more itchy dress, I'm going to run in front of a car."_

"_What part of allergic to fish don't you understand, stupid human?"_

"_Do you love me? Huh do you love me? I hope you love me, please love me!"_

He groaned, backing into an alleyway as a teenage girl ran by, leading a pack of dogs, yipping and baying excitedly. J.C. could not handle this anymore; he sank unto his hunches with a whimper, bowing over to the head splitting pain taking over his consciousness.

Words, thoughts, he was hearing all of them. It was as though a dam burst in his mind—a door that had been previously kept locked.

J.C. opened his eyes a crack, flinching because even that little light seemed too much. His senses were all on overdrive—sight, sound touch, the shirt on the back was too hot, too scratchy, the fibers poised to peel off his skin. He took a breath and nearly gagged from the deluge of smells that wafted in, particularly from the dumpster behind the Chinese restaurant in the other street. The roaches creeping by his legs were the size of rats, every layer on their waxy shells standing out as they moved.

A door kept locked on purpose; but last night…

He buried his face in his knees, frowning in concentration in a bid to think past the cacophony in his head to the dream but it was difficult. It was just a confused jumble of flashes. What he could remember, the only thing that remained crystal clear was stirring in the darkness and looking into those blue eyes.

That thought somehow managed to drive out everything else and J.C looked up. That was where it all started, this whole madness. He had woken up to find another man in his bed, freaked out and left the apartment without any regard for his appearance or the time. That was when the voices started—crossing down the landing, only to be assaulted by his screaming neighbors on either side. Walking out into the streets only made things worse and he ended up passing out in front of someone's house.

Senna— the cat that was not a cat. One more weirdness to be linked to that damned Chinaman and his pet shop. J.C. got to his feet, determination etched in his features. He was going to the Count and get some answers or one more victim would be joining the body count his department was investigating.

***

"Hey J.C. what's up with you man? I've been trying to get you all day now. Are you sick or something? Call me back when you get this…Leon."

The blonde frowned uneasily as he pocketed his cell phone and placed the still piping hot dinner from his usual take out place on the kitchen counter. He'd gotten off from work and still no word from his partner. This was uncharacteristic of J.C. and he was beginning to seriously entertain the idea of checking up on the other man in his apartment.

It was funny, Leon thought with a wry smile, how easily he'd gotten used to working with the brunet considering his reluctance with the whole partner idea in the first place. Things could have been worse; they could have stuck him with a royal pain in the ass but luckily it all worked out for the best. And now, thanks to a bit of luck and good old fashioned police work, they were about to crack their first major case together. Well once he got the slacker on the phone.

Leon balanced his food laden paper plate in one hand and a can of Millers light in the other, navigating his way to the couch. He pushed aside the books on the seat—sign language for dummies, learn a third language, life as the parent of a mute child—and they clattered to the floor. He sighed, reaching into the morass of dust bunnies and other unspeakable that littered the floor, shaking off the brand new books with chagrin. "I was supposed to get into this."

He was supposed to do a lot of things in preparation for his brother's visit, which was no longer that far away any more. The den was supposed to be cleaned out—in fact the whole house could do with some elbow grease, he conceded—he was supposed to look around for an afternoon program the kid would hang out in while he was at work…Leon rubbed his face tiredly, guilt weighing down on his shoulders like a ton of bricks.

The kid had been so excited about the whole deal, begged and begged for the chance but at the rate things looked, one or both of them might end up regretting this summer vacation. It was work, the detective groused internally, the annoying way bodies kept dropping like flies in this case made things very unpredictable for everyone. But once everything was over, he would definitely get on task for his brother. With that promise firmly in mind, he tucked into his General Tso's with gusto. First things first, chewing out his idiot of a partner for making him worry.

***

It was the usual lunch time scene in the shop, the Count breaking up one of the scuffles that usually erupted among his charges when the human burst in, breathing heavily as though he'd run a long distance. A shocked silence had descended over the shop—first because of his sudden entrance and then his strange appearance. Good thing the Kami remembered the circumstances under which Senna had also come in earlier in the day.

"Good afternoon detective, is everything all right?"

His first move was to act as though nothing the feline told him had ever happened. Perhaps his hunch paid off and the detective rationalized it all away. That was before the Count looked into his eyes.

"What did you do to me?"

His voice was a raspy growl, the kind some of the shop keeper's charges used in warning, and several of the creatures looked up with interest.

"Do to you? I beg your pardon detective," the Kami began but the detective cut him off.

"Don't play games with me D!"

The brunet was looking around the room, expression bordering on disbelief and hysteria. "W-why do you have those children leashed and bound to that pole?" He pointed to the pack of hyena cubs squabbling over their lunch and they froze, turning aside to regard the human suspiciously.

_"Count…"_

Count D miraculously maintained a blank face, even with the realization that something had gone very wrong.

"Detective Tennyson, please calm down."

"Y-You sold me a human and told me it was a cat. What kind of weird hypnotist shit did you do to me?"

"No…I did not sell or give anyone to you, nor did I hypnotize you."

The detective barked out a short laugh, fingers dragging through his tangled curls and over his face. "Then I gotta be going crazy cos I'm seeing things that there's no way in hell can be possible."

"I-I am afraid I do not follow—"

"—Count there's a young blond girl hanging from the rafter above your head…and that parrot perching on the stand next to you, it just turned into a woman."

The Kami took a breath and ventured again. "Detective are you sure everything is all right? Perhaps your physician prescribed some medications to you that do not agree with your system…or it could be that the heightened stress from your work is getting to you. I have heard that it happens to hu-people sometimes."

"Stress, you're trying to tell me that this is because of stress?"

The detective's voice rose dramatically with anger and the shop keeper glanced in appeal at his charges, who took the hint, clearing out of the room one by one.

"I'm not just seeing things, I'm also hearing them…I can hear their thoughts Count. Cats, dogs….people. And this all started last night with your cat. So I'll ask one more time, what did it do to me? What have you done to me?"

There was a tension in the air, dark and forbidding, and it thickened with every charged word the human uttered. As he stood there, back to the door and shoulders hunched as though carrying the weight of the world, the Kami couldn't help wondering whether the fault did indeed come from his doorstep.

"J.C."

They both swung aside at the same time, to the feline who had been creeping upon them unnoticed. The detective flinched at the mention of his name, panic evident in his face as he stared at the fair man.

"You!"

"J.C. please."

"What the hell are you?"

Count D winced internally at the accusatory tone and Senna looked down guiltily. "I'm sorry, this is all my fault. I was only trying to help."

The human still looked nonplussed. "Help, is this what you call helping?"

"I didn't mean for this to happen but it was the only way to save you…from your nightmares."

The detective was about to say something else but he paused, deliberating for the first time. "My nightmares, what are you talking about?"

There was a catch to his voice but the cat king didn't notice and babbled on. "I've been—I was trying to keep them away, to draw you out of them but instead I only opened up your Sight." He ignored the shop keeper's stifling motion and took a step forward. "You're not going crazy J.C., it's just that you're really seeing the world for what it is now. This is my second form; I have one just like many animals and higher creatures in this shop do. Humans shouldn't be able to see us like you do but because of what I did…what I've been doing…and last night—"

"—You've been messing with my head!"

Count D stiffened with the renewed fury in the detective's voice and reached out toward his charge but Senna was beyond reasoning with. All he could see or focus on was his human's hurt.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean any harm, I never have. Think about it J.C., have I ever caused you pain in any way?"

"Enough," the detective snarled, backing further into the door as the feline continued moving closer.

"Please listen to me. I know you're angry right now, as you should but, in your heart you know I'm telling the truth," Senna pleaded, tears spilling into his voice.

"I mean it, don't take another step closer."

"Senna," the Kami murmured urgently, grasping his charge's hand only for it to be wrenched away.

"J.C. please…I love you."

They were standing only a hairsbreadth apart now, too far for the Count to step in. It was the hush in the air that lulled him into relaxing even for a moment; the fact that Senna was cupping his human's face, looking right into his eyes.

"I said DON'T TOUCH ME!!!"

It happened so fast but the next instant, the cat king was flying through the air and crashed into the cages and stalls to the left.

"This has gone far enough!" Count D bellowed stridently, his golden aura already filling the room as he stretched a hand toward the detective, only to be held back by Sofu-D.

"Forebear, grandson!"

There was a sharp sound and the air the detective was filled with crackling electricity. She stood behind him, eyes blazing, and the young Kami hesitated. He watched with wide eyes as the other two suddenly disappeared from the shop, leaving only the acrid smell of burning air in their wake.

"J.C."

Count D glanced hastily at Senna, who was slowly picking himself off the ground, and felt a pang at the heartbroken expression on the feline's face. Before he could say anything more, his charge made for the shop's interior and disappeared through the curtains. The only person left to turn to was Sofu-D. The elder Kami read the outrage and confusion in his eyes and sighed.

"First let us rearrange our wares. After that, we shall talk."

The Count knew better than to push just yet, so he nodded wordlessly and set to work. Tears and heartbreak, those were the only things humans were capable of giving, he growled to himself as he bent to pick up a knocked over bird stand obstructing the path to the shop's interior. "Hand carved acacia! Why that human…"

The pet shop's steward surveyed the gloomy shop and shook his head; he gave up on his task of cleaning up and crossed the room, sinking into a couch with a sigh. "What a mess that was."

A mess indeed.

The young Kami made a sound of assent as he approached the living area. "Shall I prepare tea, grandfather?"

Sofu-D began shaking his head but then stopped. "That…would be appropriate, given the circumstances. We all need to take a deep breath and calm down."

The Count disappeared but returned with record time, bearing the usual tea arrangement. He set it on the coffee table and took the couch across from his grandfather expectantly.

"Perhaps you would want to see to our charges as well?"

"I believe what Senna needs right now is privacy. As for the others, they can do without my attention for a few minutes."

There was no more room to hedge or stall. The elder Kami sighed in capitulation and reached for his teacup. "You want to know why I stopped you."

Amongst other things, the shop keeper thought as he nodded.

"I had already given my word not to get involved in her affairs, no matter how close to home they may reach. Allowing you to do as you wished would have been disastrous."

The Count frowned slightly. "What I do not understand is why that person was protecting the human."

Sofu-D made a sound in the back of his throat. "Well she did exactly what I would have done if someone had put _you_ in harm's way and it was well within her rights."

"Grandfather you promised that you would make it clear to me but your words only make me more confused. Who is that person or what is she? I sensed great power from her but…she is not like us. Yet you defer to her."

The elder Kami drained the scalding contents of his cup in one delicate gulp and set it down. "Indeed, I defer to her—one must pay homage where it is due, no?"

His grandson nodded mutely, frustration beginning to mar his features.

"That person is not like us."

Count D's eyes sharpened with interest. "She is not a god."

"No," his grandfather conceded. "However, her offspring are."

_Ooooh betcha didn's see that coming!_


	18. Chapter 18

Hi! Ho! I'm back...oh!

Nemesis 

J.C. slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the stream of sunlight pouring from above his head. There was a dull throbbing ache between his eyes to match the steady churning of his stomach. He groaned and sat upright, swinging his feet over the bed to the floor. Wait…how did he get in bed? J.C. couldn't remember getting home, talk less changing clothes.

"Cuidado* Casi."

He nearly tripped on his own feet spinning around to the voice. It was incredible, unbelievable! J.C. shut his eyes tight and slowly opened them again. Nope she was still there, sitting on one of the dining chairs by the wall with that relaxed smile. As though he always woke up to find her there.

"Avo."

"Casimiro."

He sighed and rubbed his face. "What are you doing here?"

Lurdes shrugged expansively and the shawl thrown over one shoulder slid down. He noticed it was her favorite shawl—one of the ones he'd forgotten to box away to Goodwill.

"Watching over you. Do you know that you still clutch to your pillow when you sleep? It was the cutest thing ever when you were a child. It still is, but I could be biased."

"You're dead." Just saying it sent a pang through the detective but he had to. This was just becoming too crazy for him. She made a soft sound in the back of her throat and got to her feet, walking closer until they were face to face. J.C. wanted to cry, to scream, to reach out and touch her face because there was no way the woman smiling at him could be--

"Dead…you're supposed to be dead." The hand that touched his face was cool and dry; work roughened and calloused just like he remembered it. He shifted slightly and caught a whiff of cinnamon. "T-this is not possible?"

"Isn't it?

"No, people don't die and rise from the dead." He stubbornly resisted the fingers pushing back his tangled mess of hair.

"Well I'm obviously not 'people' am I," Lurdes countered with a grin, which quickly turned sly. "Neither are you."

J.C. flinched and took a step back. "What are you—"

"—Sshhh, calma querido*," she murmured in her grandmotherly voice. "Your headache is gone, isn't it?"

He started nodding and stopped, eyes widened with suspicion. "You know about that."

Lurdes nodded sagely. "Well it is only expected, considering what you've been through the past day."

It took him a moment to understand what she was saying. "Wait you mean…it was all you?"

"Of course! Did you think you just started dreaming of me for no reason? Nevertheless, I call it all a resounding success, what with me almost giving up hope on your potential awakening without use of more ah, drastic measures."

J.C. stared at her; what happened to his grandmother and who was this stranger smiling at him with such cool calculation? "You did this to me—what did you do to me?"

She shrugged and moved away. "Not very much, I just gave you the little push you needed to come into your birthright. Granted this was all an experiment, I wasn't sure you would take after your brothers… with your mortal father."

That nearly sent him reeling backward into the bed. "W-what?"

Lurdes frowned impatiently as she turned back around. "Right…well then Casmiro, you need to take a bath and wear something appropriate. Do something about that mane while you're at it. Find me in the kitchen—we have a lot to talk about."

***

Perhaps opening for business was not the best idea, Count D thought ruefully. The shop was unusually devoid of customers for the time of the day and there were very few of his charges milling the place. They were still a little shell shocked from the incident yesterday and kept a low profile. It didn't help that grandfather's stern presence hovered about the place every now and then.

The shop keeper sank unto a couch with a sigh, not even able to muster enough wherewithal to go into the kitchen and make tea. It was a dismal situation really, and he couldn't think of a way to rectify things. Senna hadn't shown his face all day and ignored the Count's repeated pleadings to open his door. Sofu-D refused to comment or intervene in the matter. For once, even his close companions had little to give by way of advice. All he could do was try to keep calm and hope things don't deteriorate any more than they have.

Ching….

The door swung open with the wind chimes tingle and he looked up to the customer's approach, hurriedly getting to his feet. "Good afternoon, we sell love hope and dreams. How may I be of servi…ce?" The man had turned around and the light cast his features fully into view. The first thing the Count noticed was the strange aura round the man; it was dark and unsettling, stealing all the warmth and vibrancy in the air around him. Then he looked up to meet the customer's eyes and nearly flinched. One was an almost solid white and the other, black—both were fathomless, soulless and empty. The man squirmed away from his scrutiny, seeking the shadowy portion of the room almost instinctively.

"I'm looking for a cat."

The shop keeper frowned and moved a little closer. "I beg your pardon did you say you're looking for a particular cat?"

The man hesitated and shook his head. "I mean I _need_ a cat."

The animals' absence was a blessing in disguise after all; Count D had already decided that there was no way he would hand over any of his beloved creatures to this kind of person, but thought to keep humoring him. "Very good sir. Tell me, do you have experience taking care of cats?"

"Yeah…"

It was a weak, uncertain response. For some reason, it made the shop keeper suspicious. "You have an affinity for cats then…Few people do."

"I suppose—do you have any cats?"

The Count's smile didn't waver as he blithely replied. "How unfortunate that I made my last sale just hours ago. I am afraid you will have to go elsewhere for your needs."

"But what about that one?"

He froze, swing around to the figure standing by the shop's interior. "That one?"

The man's eyes were riveted on the white cat, interest sparking the first sign of life in his eyes. "Yes that one. It's beautiful."

The shop keeper had begun hastily shaking his head even before formulating his next lie. "I'm afraid _that one_ is not for sale—you see, he slipped out and contracted fleas from the strays roaming the alleys. He is being quarantined for the next few weeks and thus I cannot make a legal sale."

"I don't care about the fleas, I want him. He's perfect."

Count D was beginning to feel annoyed. "I'm sorry—"

_"—Make him sign a contract, Count."_

He frowned and turned back. _"What?"_

Senna was staring at the man, the expression on his face a mixture of revulsion and cold amusement. It startled the Kami to no end. _"I'll go with him, under a contract."_

_"Why?"_

_"He reeks of blood, and I will be doing the world a favor removing him from it."_

The shop keeper swallowed, risking a half glance at the human still staring at his charge. _"What about your detective? Who knows how long he'll follow the rules—you could be gone for a while."_

Senna shrugged indifferently. _"This one won't last long, I can assure you. Besides J.C. doesn't want me…he hates me now, so why stay here, pining for him?"_ Their eyes held for a long moment and the Kami knew he wouldn't be swayed.

_"All right, as you wish. However, know this now that I accept under extreme duress. This human does not ring well with me."_

The feline walked over to the human while Count D re-worked his stiff smile. "Perhaps I was too hasty…"

Scant ten minutes later, Count D watched one of his favorite charges leave the shop in the arms of his new 'master'. He sighed, trying to fight back the unease and dread growing in his midsection.

Trying and failing.

***

"You expect me to believe that you're really my avo," J.C. begun without preamble, standing with his arms crossed in front of his kitchen. He glared at the woman who had already taken shop in it, chopping peppers and tomatoes on the counter.

"Would you rather believe that she had an identical twin sister somewhere?"

His mouth snapped shut as she flippantly waved the knife, unfazed by his belligerence.

"What happened that day fifteen years ago came as a surprise indeed, a very pleasant one. Hand me that tomato Casi," Lurdes half glanced from the mixture on the kitchen counter, hand extended and he responded, reaching for the vegetable automatically. Only when it was in hand did J.C. hesitate; she beckoned expectantly and he found himself obeying.

"And so, I expected for you to come into your nature from then on. But you didn't, instead you stubbornly blocked the memories and repressed yourself. I tried and tried to force your awareness, but nothing I did could get past your own self imposed illusions."

All the detective could do was stand and stare. She finished chopping the mixture of peppers, onions and tomatoes and opened the fridge. "Necessito a carne, seu voce tem algum—ah, sim*." The pack of ground beef he bought a few days ago joined the mixture on the counter. He watched, still tongue tied, as she deftly opened all his cupboards and found things witch practiced efficiency. It was as though this was her home and he was merely a visitor.

"It puzzled me, your reaction to everything. You obviously the Sight but began trusting it less and less. It was amusing sometimes, the way you blustered and formulated explanations for things I didn't even ask about. I blame all that on the flea infested human bunch, inevitable since we are all now surrounded by them." Lurdes reached up and retrieved his only skillet from the hanger to the stove, dropping a few slices of butter into it as well as the peppers. Soon a sizzling sound filled kitchen and the aroma of cooking wafted into the air. J.C.'s stomach grumbled traitorously and she chuckled.

"Hopefully you don't still think I'm a ghost, eh Casi?"

He shook his head. "Obviously not."

"Bom*, we are making progress."

"What are you then? You keep saying humans and stuff like Sight."

Lurdes looked up from the skillet with an unreadable expression. "What am I? That is something I'd like to know too. But I do know what you are, what all my children are."

That admission sent a chill down J.C.'s spine and he stiffened. "All your children? Exactly what are you trying to say now, that _I'm_ your child?"

Silence followed his question and he didn't like it at all. He didn't like the appraising way she was looking him up and down either—like he was a creature to be taken stock of." Everything you told me about my mother and father was a lie." There was none of the warmth he'd always associated with her in that gaze, just remoteness, like the depths of a bottomless pit . He'd seen that look before—on Count D.

"Well, there's no helping the furless pelt. At least you have my eyes, even if everything else is a donation from your father."

"At least that part's real." Where was the sense of humor coming from? J.C. sighed and rubbed his face. Maybe, just maybe he was starting to go along with this whole bull. If the idea was to brainwash him, then she was doing a bang up job of creating the mood.

"Well Mitch Tennyson was also good enough to disappear from the story."

"You killed him?"

Lurdes threw him a dirty look. "Don't insult me; that is no way to repay a favor, even if he didn't know at the time. I merely rearranged some of his memories and sent him on his merry way. Mitch was my experiment and your birth, confirmation of some sorts. I always thought I also carried divine potential, independent of my Mate. If only my mother in law could see me now." Her expression turned poisonous for a moment and she shook her head. "Well…perhaps soon enough. Go clean up that dining table, lunch is ready."

He shook his head defiantly. "Screw that, what the hell is really going on here?"

Lurdes sighed and rolled her eyes. "What is going on here is that you my son, are a god. Granted a pathetically novice one--"

"Whoa hold up! What do you mean, I'm a god?"

She turned to ladle the contents of the skillet into two plates and walked past him to the dining table, clearing the surface with a dismissive flick of the hand and setting her plates on it. "Well, you're not going to be carving mountains out of the state of California or changing the paths of the Niagara but, running through your veins is _power_." Her eyes flashed and the air crackled, and he believed her.

***

Count D got up from his perch among his companions for the fourth time, caught himself and sat back gown, a blush of chagrin on his face. "I am sorry, what were you saying, Pon-chan?"

The quartet shared a glance and the Kitsune cleared his throat. "You've been a little distracted today Count."

"Hell, he's been distracted for the past month. It's just gotten worse," the Totetsu threw in, tail flicking for emphasis and the Kami sighed.

"I cannot help feeling worried about Senna. His contract, the human…it is troubling."

Pon-chan made a sound of concern and snuggled into his arms. "That is unusual."

"Ah it's okay, Senna can take care of himself. Watch, he'll prance into the place by the end of the week."

The brash words did little to reassure the Count, who shifted on the couch and shook his head. "It is hard to explain but I have a terrible feeling about it all. If Senna had not insisted, I would never have handed anyone of you to a person like that. Everything about him felt wrong."

Ten-chan sat up on his couch, taking on a more serious expression. "The contract is signed and Senna's gone. There's nothing you can do about it until the human does something stupid."

The shop keeper sat rigid for a moment, eyes gleaming with inspiration. "That is it." He heaved a deep breath and got to his feet. "Thank you for that, Ten-chan"

The trio watched him disappear into the shop and return almost instantly, changed and carrying a thick cloak. "Technically I cannot interfere any more, but perhaps there is someone who can. All that need happen is for the contract to be broken. Mind the others will you? I shall not be long." With that he started for the door.

"Are you certain your actions are justifiable?"

Sofu-D's soft voice cut through his excitement like knife in butter. He hesitated and turned back, conviction in his eyes. "I cannot just sit back grandfather, I must interfere. Please trust my intuition."

The elder Kami sighed and looked down. "These days I wonder how much of you comes from me, and how much from him." They both knew who him was. The Count opened his mouth, eyes filled with surprise and hurt but Sofu-D cut him off. "Do as you will. I shall mind the shop."

The shop keeper nodded once, cast one last look at the others sitting unobtrusively on the couch, and walked into the night.

***

"So that's how it is."

J.C. wasn't really looking at her, his mind still reeling from everything he'd seen and heard.

"Yes."

His grand—his mother walked closer, wrapping her arms around his neck to hug him close. "Yes my son."

He didn't register the warmth of their embrace or the soft kiss the planted on his temples. He was frozen inside and out, a solid form on the chair, staring out into nothing.

"Why now? I buried you five years ago. Why come back now?"

Lurdes's clasp relaxed a fraction and she leaned lower until her jaw rested atop his curls. "Why indeed? Perhaps because I can, or maybe I am just curious to see what my godling can do once he knows the truth. I made a cat's paw; now I want to open locked doors." Her cryptic words hung like a veil over his head before dissolving into the air. "You did not bury me Casimiro, only broken flesh. Besides, it was all in fulfillment of my wishes because even an immortal can be caught in the meshes of this mortal coil…never forget that. The currents of this world are poison to such as us; swim long enough and they become poison, dragging us down into the dregs called humanity. Here is your first lesson as a god: you are beyond the cares of this world."

J.C. laughed harshly and shrugged away from her arms. "Sounds like you're speaking from experience." He knew from the swift chill in the air that the words hit home and she was angered, but didn't care. "Well I'll keep that in mind."

They both felt the presence at the door at the same time and their eyes followed the twisting of the knob. Of course, the detective thought ironically, why would his mother ever think to lock the door? It slowly creaked open to reveal Count D standing by the threshold. "Good evening; pardon my intrusion."

J.C. raised an eyebrow, wondering why he was not really surprised by this either. "Why do you know the way to my apartment, Count D?"

The Kami slowly inclined his head in concession. "Senna led me here without his knowledge yesterday night. I believe he wanted to try and appeal to you once again, after our…exchange."

The brunet's expression didn't shift from his blank indifference, but his eyes began shifting from hazel to gold. "What do you want?"

"I would like to talk. May I come in?"

J.C. shrugged and he entered, shutting the door behind him. Bi-color eyes moved to the hitherto still figure standing behind the detective and paused uncertainly.

"Well, what do you want to talk about?"

The Chinaman's arms rose a fraction, and then slowly lowered back to his sides. "Senna."

The mention of that name sent the brunet standing upright, looking as though he wanted to walk away.

"Please hear me out, detective Tennyson. I admit that the circumstances between us the past few days have been less than amicable."

"Well that's one way of putting it," he cut in but the Count wasn't done yet.

"However, I also know that despite our differences we have at least one thing in common and that is Senna's welfare." He paused, expecting some sort of response—blustering denial at least—but there was none. The silence following his words was less hostile than he had expected and that encouraged him to continue. "We both, in our own ways, love and care for him."

"Don't put words in my mouth," J.C. snarled.

"Don't pretend to deny it," the Kami snapped back, momentarily forgetting the purpose of the visit. The brunet crossed his arms, dull red eyes narrowed into slits as he stalked closer.

"You gave me a demon cat--"

"—I didn't give you anyone --"

"—He fucking messed with my head--"

"--and he is not a demon!"

They were both standing toe to toe now, glaring at each other belligerently. They measured gazes like swords for a long moment before Count D backed down, shutting his eyes briefly as he stepped away. "Senna is a noble spirit, a lord of his kind, and deserves better than you have shown him. His only crime was to fall in love with you; everything he has done since then has been because of his love for you."

The brunet made a sound of disbelief as he turned aside. "Right, manipulating me was out of love too. It seems that everyone who loves me does that nowadays."

The Chinaman's face was a blank mask, showing no consideration of his words. "Where it up to me, this would never have happened. Remember I told you that day that I did not give Senna to you and had no say in his decision. He came to you entirely of his own will, choosing to be with you just as you chose him."

"When did I do that?"

"Look detective, I am not going to split hairs about a thing that is none of my concern. The reason I'm here is because Senna is in danger. Because of your cruelty, he has put himself in a situation that makes me very afraid. However, I cannot interfere directly, no matter how much I want to."

J.C. frowned slightly, walking back in spite of himself. "What do you mean?"

"He is in a contract with a human of questionable spirit."

What was that supposed to mean? The brunet worked through the Count's explanation. A contract was a binding agreement between two people. "Well if he signed this contract, he must want to be with this person." He didn't expect the sharp pang that followed those words.

The Kami's face hardened and his eyes glittered superciliously. "Believe me detective, no creature enters into a contract with a _human_ out of love."

J.C. was still too perplexed to catch the full import of those words. "But then why did he?" Count D gave him a pointed look and he hesitated. Why else? He had a flash of memory, remembering how Senna had begged him and what he had done in response. What would he have done if he told someone he loved them and they flung it right back in his face? Guilt—he didn't expect it to fall so heavily over his shoulders.

The shop keeper felt a little relieved, seeing the effect of his words on the detective. That, more than anything else, showed that he still cared. "Unfortunately I cannot help having a terrible feeling about it all. Senna may have underestimated what he was getting into and based on the stipulations of the contract, there is a limit to what I can do. You on the other hand, can interfere and get him out. That is, if you are done being angry."

J.C. ignored the bite in his voice—there were more important things to deal with. "Exactly what do you want me to do?"

Count D's face brightened somewhat and he extended a sheet of paper to the brunet, on which he had scrawled an address. "All you have to do is go to this place and persuade him to come home. I believe this will be easier if you go with your police badge."

"That's all?" There was a note of skepticism in the detective's voice as he looked at the paper.

"That is all you need to do."

J.C. gave the address another glance, his frown deepening. The address was oddly familiar. "What did you say was this person's name again?"

The Kami raised an eyebrow. "I never did say it but the name on the contract is Damien Pryor."

He was at the door before the Chinaman could react.

"Detective!"

"Casi!"

J.C.'s hands paused on the knob and he half turned. "What?"

"Where are you going?"

The brunet made an incredulous sound. "Did you hear everything we've been talking about, avo? My…Senna's in deep shit and I have to get there before someone else dies."

"Exactly what do you know you are about to get into?"

He scowled and shoved the door open, "Forget this avo," and was gone. Looking at the impassive statue across the room, Count D decided it was high time to go. He took a step back but she arrested him with a glance.

"Scion of D, I warned your grandfather not to interfere in my affairs and yet here you are. Whatever shall I do with this now?"

Something about her patently condescending voice sent his hackles rising again. "When my charges are put in danger I must interfere, no matter what. With all due respect, I am not my grandfather. "

She chuckled and tossed her head dismissively. "Indeed you are not."

Count D was never so angry as to forget his manners; he nodded and bowed slightly, making sure however, to slam the door extra hard on his way out.

_If you want a happy home, make friends with your mother in law!_

-----

Cuidado: take care/ careful

calma querido: Calm down (best translation) dear

"Necessito a carne, seu voce tem algum—ah, sim: I need meat, do you have any--ah yes.

Bom: Good

----------

I feel I should say this now:

Number of chapters left= Two.


	19. Chapter 19

Housekeeping!

**StarAngel531: Thanks for the kind words...I'll do my best ^^**

Done!

Warnings:

Pottymouthed-ness (That's _all_ I ever have to report ^^;)

Parley

Senna dropped gracefully from the balcony he'd been standing on to the garden below. It was a small one and rather unkempt, the pretty pink and red terracotta tiles on the walls and floor overrun by creeping plants and tough grass. He nimbly picked his way over tangled bushes and dead branches to stand on the water fountain in the middle of the garden, long since dried and filled up with fallen leaves.

It was unusually quiet in here; no sound, not the chirping of birds or chatter of squirrels, not even insects hovered in the air. The complete lack of activity unnerved Senna, who had fled the confines of the rooms upstairs for the very same reason.

How could a place this big be so devoid of life? His forays about the house showed that it was a grand structure indeed, three stories tall and filled with many locked rooms. It was nothing like the small yet cozy quarters of the pet shop or J.C.'s airy apartment. Thinking about the brunet even for one moment filled his heart with pain, so he forced himself to concentrate on his surroundings. Where was he anyway? Senna now regretted not paying attention during the drive from the pet shop; he'd feigned sleep, preferring to keep as much distance from his new owner as possible. The stench of blood around the human had sent him into spasms of premature rage.

"Hey how did you get all the way down there?"

He looked up to the figure leaning over the balcony and his eyes narrowed. _Good thing I'm not expected to communicate with his kind._

"Come up now, I've got lunch."

The man—what was it the Count called him again? Damien—reached out a beckoning hand but Senna ignored it, leaping easily into the air to land on the balcony ledge.

"Wow…you're so graceful."

He stood still and endured the fingers that touched his face for a moment before jumping to the ground and walking back into the room. His skittishness was expected behavior from newly bought animals, particularly cats. The room was a suite, the grand sized living room equipped with plush leather chairs and ornate looking tables, furniture that could easily rival some of the Count's more recent home decorating purchases despite their coating of dust. There was no television though, and the music system was outdated compared to J.C's. Another sharp pang and Senna rubbed his chest.

"I went out to buy lunch," his new owner continued eagerly, pointing to the arrangement on the table. There were three different kinds of cat food, all gourmet, dry kibble as well as fresh red meat. Curiously enough, this all sat side by side with burgers, fries and a box of still warm pizza. "I wasn't sure what you liked or how you liked it, so I bought everything."

Senna frowned at the cooked food. He looked back up to the human, who was still staring at him with excitement, and the frown deepened. Why would he buy pizza for a cat? His eyes widened and he burst out involuntarily. "You can see me!"

Damien nodded, looking at little puzzled. "Well yeah, that's why I bought you in the first place."

The fact that the human thought this completely normal put the feline on guard even as he took a step closer, forcing himself to meet those odd colored eyes. "You've always been able to see animals?"

"No, just cats," he rectified, reaching over to pick up one of the burgers.

So Damien's Sight was only limited to cats. J.C. had said he could see animals as well, but that was after Senna manipulated his mind. Still, it was strange to run into another human who could, in such a short period of time.

"You're so beautiful…I knew when I saw you that you were special. You're different from the others—you'll stay with me forever."

Senna couldn't help shuddering from his owner's words and the intensity behind his stare. "What do you mean, different from the others?"

The human's face darkened and he looked away, obviously unwilling to talk about the subject. "Hurry up and eat something, it's almost nap time. We'll always have nap time together." He pointed toward the bedroom and grinned, mistaking the look of revulsion on the feline's face for shyness. "Don't worry, its safe here; no one ever comes by this place anymore." His hands patted the feline's head, stroking through his hair. "I'll take very good care of you like I promised Count D. You'll be with me forever."

Senna distanced himself from the whole thing, mind already calculating his next action. He couldn't imagine the thought of spending another day in this house, with this human. The contract had to be broken, but how? He couldn't touch his master, not until he crossed the line. The easiest way for that to happen would be if someone else saw Senna, but what were the odds of that happening if the house was truly abandoned as he said?

***

Count D entered the pet shop, the wind chimes heralding his return. He glanced across to the living area and his grandfather, expecting some sort of reprove but Sofu-D merely got to his feet, gently depositing a sleeping Pon-chan on the cushions before sweeping into the interior. The shop keeper sighed heavily and straightaway made for the kitchen, setting the kettle to boil. It was with shaky hands that he made tea and set the tray, unsteady feet carrying him to the couch. He sipped the bitter brew, frowning when he realized it was the wrong kind of herbs he'd infused. He moaned helplessly and hung his head low, silken tresses falling over his face.

In all his years, the Count had never found himself in such a state of quandary. He'd crossed his beloved grandfather, interfered with a legal contract with the intent of twisting justice and to top it all, made for himself a formidable adversary. All these he did impetuously and with selfish disregard for the consequences; all he did out of love.

What happened to his objectivity? What happened to always letting fate play its course? Now he'd set Tennyson into a course that could prove disastrous. What if he'd overestimated the detective's affections for Senna? Anything could go wrong and worse, the humans could be dragged into it. More so, the Kami had the feeling that he hadn't seen the last of _her_ yet. His grandfather wouldn't have told him all he did without good reason.

***

_"Not a god…well then what is she?"_

_"She is a woman," Sofu-D replied, leaning back into the couch for a long sip of his tea while his grandson looked appropriately stunned._

_"You mean that person is human?" The Count's bi-color eyes were filled with surprise and not a little amount of skepticism._

_"In a manner of speaking," the elder Kami murmured. "A woman born of no woman, one who was made by the Nameless Ones at a time when the realm of the Gods was but a stepping stone away from earth. A time long forgotten, never to return." Familiar bleakness leaked into his voice and he stared into the darkness with a faraway expression._

_"Grandfather," the shop keeper gently called him back and he cleared his throat._

_"Forgive me…Nevertheless She walked among them as though a like kind, consort to a great beast God and mother of gods in her own right."_

_Count D nodded solemnly, swirling the contents of his cup in slow circles. "I see, but then what place does one so old have in this new world? You say she is one that such as us ought to respect yet for some reason I sensed that she is…diminished."_

_Sofu-D made a soft sound in the back of his throat and set his cup down. "Would you cease to respect me simply because I am old, and come from a time unlike yours? Shall I expect to be relegated when my sun begins to set, as it inevitably will?"_

_"Never, grandfather!"_

_He smiled indulgently, eyes shimmering light gold for a moment. "Your question is relevant all the same, even if it is not in our place to ask. All we can be are spectators to the unfolding events, not running interference but learning what may be learned from the outcome. I must warn you my grandson to heed my words. The ways of the Old ones are different from ours; there is a reason we live in awe of their fierce creations even in this lost age. Diminished or no, whatever your opinions may be on the matter, that person is not one to be crossed."_

***

"Hey this is Leon Orcot; leave a message and I'll get to you as soon as possible."

The voice mail recorder beeped and J.C. hesitated, hurriedly cutting off the phone before any sounds could register. He was driving pell-mell, headed for the Pryor mansion which, according to the books should be void of occupants and on the possible re-designation list. However, thanks to Count D's intervention the detective had a growing certainty that it was the hideout of the only living Pryor left, Tristan. Where had he been all this while, disappearing off the face of the earth only to pop back up in a pet shop of all places. The pieces to the puzzle were fitting one by one and J.C. wasn't sure he liked the developing picture.

Someone six people murdered, all with connections either to the family or its estate; all killed in a mysterious manner involving animals. Senna did say something about all animals having second forms; felines were used to kill people and he had a feline in his possession that was special to say the least. Could their missing man be somehow responsible for the other deaths? So that's how he does it—gets the animals to do the dirty work, evading the procedural routine of the police even as the scientific evidence from forensics points in a direction that is logically inconclusive and inadmissible in court. And today Tristan Pryor buys a cat from Count D. Not just any one, _his_ cat.

J.C. pressed harder on the accelerator and the car jumped in response, turning the corner at speeds that would be reprehensible even for a cop. He didn't know which galled him the more; the fact that there was a possible murderer on the loose, using animals to kill people or the fact that Senna was in the hands of a murderer who used animals to kill people. Count D had been concerned—no afraid—about keeping the feline in this person's possession, enough to use him as a cat's paw to break a contract. J.C. didn't know the details of the whole thing but from what he knew of the pet shop owner, it seemed pretty serious.

Even as the detective merged into the highway, each minute taking him closer to the Pryor mansion and confrontation, the objective part of his mind couldn't help bringing up all the reasons why this impulsive action was the first step toward disaster. He, a cop of all people, should know how this all would look in a police report. How do you explain barging into someone's house, without a warrant or reasonable excuse? Well Tristan Pryor was a person of interest and possible suspect in their murder investigation, he argued back. What suspect? There's no evidence linking him to any crime scene, all you've got is circumstantial relationships between the victims, nothing to hold water in court. Besides your tip to his house came from a pet shop owner of questionable background whose only bone to pick is the sale of a cat. Try explaining to the judge that the cat in question has a 'second form' or that it is scientifically explainable for people to be killed by two hundred and fifty pound house cats.

Did it matter that he believed all of this?

J.C. swallowed stared at his reflection in the rear view mirror. While he looked, his eyes shifted from their normal brown to liquid gold, making him to flinch and look away. His grandmother somehow rose from the dead, revealed to him that she was in fact his mother and casually broke the news that he was a god. In the same breath, he was seeing things and hearing thoughts. At this point anything was possible; it just happened that he was the one bearing witness to it all. Now the question was what to do about it? He could just as well wait for his partner, work on the other man and leave enough strong hints to send them in Tristan Pryor's direction anyway. In the meantime, Senna might be in danger and another person's life forfeit while he waited. The exit was just ahead, it was time to make a decision. J.C. took a deep breath.

***

The door shut with a click and Senna opened his eyes, feeling the miasma of shadows that was his new master's aura approach. He sat upright, cleverly evading the hands reaching to stroke his hair by rolling away and getting to his feet.

"It is dark outside."

The feline had given up on the normal modus operandi when it came to the contract, deciding there was no reason to play dumb with someone who could obviously see him. He gestured toward the half boarded window, where moonlight peeped in here and there. After the enforced nap time they had returned to the living room, where his master tried and failed to interest him in games involving building blocks, mini cars and plastic guns, only to fly into a fit of rage and tantrums with his unyielding refusals. Senna then lost his temper and stalked away, leaving the childish human. When he eventually returned the man was asleep, curled up among his toys, guarding them close to his chest.

Damien made a sound of assent. "It is but we have to go."

"Go where?" It didn't really matter, but the feline was determined to punish him by being as contrary as possible.

"We have to go somewhere. He used to be my nanny."

He shrugged and leaned against the wall. "It looks really late; don't you think this person will be asleep now? Besides, what do you need me for? Go on then, I'll be good here."

Damien shook his head vigorously, a mulish expression on his face. "No you have to come with me! I can't—I can't leave you here."

Senna groaned inwardly; he didn't like the idea of leaving this house. It wasn't a matter of him getting lost but for some reason, it felt very important that he stay put here. What if someone came looking for him? This was the only place the Count knew them to be. He killed the thought as quickly as it came. The Count wouldn't come here—it went against the contract—and no one else knew or cared.

"Why must it be at night, can't this wait till tomorrow?"

"It must be finished tonight. And then we will be together forever and ever."

However, if this idiot human was taking him to see someone then the contract would be broken even faster than any of them guessed. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise after all. He sighed and stood off the wall. "All right, as you wish. After all, you are my master."

Damien nodded with a complacent smile, walking across the bed to stand face to face with the white haired feline. He reached once again into that silky soft hair and leaned closer to whisper, "After this, you'll be with me forever. You won't leave me like the others and we'll always be happy."

Senna bit back the wave of nausea that crashed through him with the human's touch. It made his skin crawl, made his mind rebel and sent thoughts of murder to his head. But he had to take it, had to endure. There was no reason to turn on his master…yet.

***

Bang!

Count D glared at the door, arms crossed and lips pressed into a thin line. Now this was just ridiculous! He walked closer and opened it, walking right into the detective's raised fist.

"Ow!"

The Kami stepped back, too shocked from the blow and the fact that the brunet had actually laid a hit on him.

"Sorry about that, Count D."

J.C. stepped past the pet shop owner, who was still feeling his eye, and looked around. "I went to the place but it was empty."

"What?" Count D looked up, momentarily forgetting about his discomfort.

"I said I went to the mansion, the address you gave me, but there's no one there. It's a rundown place, abandoned for years. Are you sure that's where the man took Senna?"

"Yes I am; we require that our customers leave a place of address, for record keeping purposes, and he wrote it down for me. Detective, are you telling me that he lied?"

It wasn't possible for a human to lie to a Kami. Now the pet shop keeper felt rather confused.

"I don't know D: you're the one who told me to go there. The whole place is dark, boarded up…" J.C. trailed off, fingers dragging through his hair, worry plain on his features. "What's more, I'm beginning to think this guy's connected to one of our murder investigations. Remember when Leon and I came to you for help? Well t-that whole case is about someone who's been using cats to kill people."

Count D's interest had perked up about halfway through that statement but by the end, his eyes were narrow slits of color peeping through a pale face. "Using animals…to kill people?"

The detective nodded cautiously, wondering how much he could afford to divulge from the files. "Yeah, we couldn't explain it either. The chain of murders involved domestic cats—"

"—He said he needed a cat," the Kami cut in, eyes distant.

"And he now has Senna."

Silence reigned for a moment, thick and filled with meaning.

"I have a bad feeling about this Count," J.C. murmured to the Chinaman, whose bowed head hid his face from view.

"It is out of my hands detective. Y-you have to find them but there is nothing I can do to help."

"Somente as arremetidas dos tolos dentro, Casimiro*. I know you are no fool…naïve, silly sometimes, however."

They both turned at the same time to the woman lounging hitherto unnoticed on one of the couches. Count D frowned; he was beginning to be irked by her presence, the fact that she come and go as she pleased in his pet shop without him even sensing her. The arrogance in her mien because what he thought didn't matter, his sense of proprietorship was trivial, even if his outrage was justified.

"Av—what are you talking about?" J.C. hastily corrected himself, a bite of impatience entering his voice.

Lurdes lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. "O conhecimento é poder*. You have the knowledge," she slowly got to her feet and walked closer, "and you certainly have the power."

These cryptic words were beginning to frustrate the detective. He glared from one's pair of mismatched eyes to the other's shifting gold ones in accusation. "I am _tired_ of feeling like a wound up toy being passed back and forth between the two of you. I'm tired of the code talk and the half finished words—exactly what do you want me to do? Knowledge is power, power to do what?"

His mother wasn't fazed by the outburst, leaning in to brush smooth his hair. "You tell us, power to do what indeed?" She smiled, eyes dancing with mischief and laughter. "Maybe find a few missing things…open a few locked doors." Their gazes met and held for a long moment, red upon gold. She stepped back and walked away. "You are a god Casimiro, what more is there to say?"

J.C. stared into nothing, a small frown on his face, eyes lit from inside with sudden understanding. His whole demeanor seemed to change after that. Count D noticed with a startled gasp that the lines and objects around him began blurring from view. It was either that or he was coming into sharper focus, asserting his reality on everything around him, canceling out whatever was before. He smiled with hidden knowledge, a joke that only he was privy to the punch line. It was an alien expression on the detective's face; distant and impersonal, like one looking down on the rest of the world from a great height. The temperature in the shop dropped steeply, as though all heat and warmth was being sucked away.

"Right."

Time stopped for a heartbeat. The air behind J.C. shifted, and then he was gone. The Kami let go of the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and turned to the other occupant in his shop.

"You may have witnessed a few wondrous events in your short existence, but anything like the birth of a god?"

He ignored her rhetorical question and took a step closer. "Why are you helping me?"

One slim eyebrow rose in a perfect arch and Lurdes mimicked his pose. "Helping you?"

"You did not need to say or do anything to this case, and yet you did. For some reason I fail to see this as purely an act of kindess."

She smiled and her eyes glowed eerie green, sending a tingle down his spine. "There is more than one way to skin a cat, young D." He flinched and her smile widened even further. "You are one quick to jump into conclusions aren't you? I'm sure you were told never to look the gift horse in the mouth. Perhaps I'm feeling generous today…perhaps not." With that, she turned around and simply walked into the wall.

Count D bit his lip so hard, it bled. Theirs was a confrontation that never was and yet he couldn't help the shaky feeling in his legs. Diminished or not, her presence was crushing. And she'd just set her son on the same path. He shook his head, determined not to be overwhelmed by it all, despite the sinking feeling of cold lead in his midsection.

Senna will be safe—the detective, well he couldn't really be called that anymore, would see to that. Nevertheless, the Kami had other duties to attend to. With that, he turned around and walked into the shop's interior.

Sofu-D emerged from the shadows where he had been a tense spectator to the whole exchange. He slowly shut his eyes and shook his head, a soft sigh escaping his lips. It was one of relief, disappointment, hope and fear.

_The man with a cap doesn't have a head; the man with a head, doesn't have a cap._

--------

Ramblings over here!

*Somente as arremetidas dos tolos dentro: Only the fools rush in

*O conhecimento é poder: Knowledge is power

So....we've got only one chapter left eh?


	20. Chapter 22

House Keeping!

**Anna McNarin**: Thanks for following this story for as long and as well as you have. You're right about a lot of things and hopefully this chapter helps answer a few questions. Many thanks for all your help proofing and editing this chapter. Much obliged

I want to say a big thank you to everyone, for reading and for taking the time to comment on this story. Phew! Talk about an exhale....but I won't stall things with my rambling just yet....

Warnings:

Potty mouthed-ness

Reaper

Martin Delaney was late. He hurriedly shut the car door and raced out of the parking lot, constantly looking at his wristwatch, worry and concern etching deep lines on his face with each passing moment. The elevator was being held up above ground; he swore foully and slammed a fist on the cool metal. "Come on man!"

It was no use. Martin sighed and took a step back. There was no helping it; he was well and truly late. He caught his reflection on the elevator's shiny surface and fought the urge to look away. He was unnaturally pale, his skin a sallow and waxy contrast to his black hair and expensive Prada suit. His green eyes seemed to gleam like wet jade, their desperate spark the only sign of life. Martin sighed and rubbed his face, suddenly wishing he could take a nap. The past few days had been particularly nerve wracking, what with him driving literally cross country every day, spending hours in meetings, poring over documents and details. He thought he'd already adjusted to the change in his routine; the overpowering drowsiness that knocked him out during the day and forced him to be nocturnal. It was part of the whole package, they said. Along with the new look and fat bank account.

The elevator dinged and swung open. "Finally," Martin growled and quickly walked in, jabbing his floor button with more force than was necessary. It was an unusually long trip up, during which he had ample time to contemplate the fact that he was late and the consequences that were certainly going to arise from his tardiness. It won't be pretty, he thought with a grim smile, excitement strangely glittering in his eyes. The climb came to a stop and the door swung open again. Martin sighed with relief and swept out, marching down the quiet hallway to his door. Thank goodness he didn't have to worry about such things as keys and locks, he thought as it clicked open. He walked in and turned on the lights, knowing the instant his finger touched the switch that he was not alone. The living room, now illuminated, revealed that there was a man sitting on the couch, cradling a white cat in his arms. Martin frowned, glancing back at the door just to make sure. "Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my apartment?"

The man looked up. "Martie, don't you remember me?" He got to his feet and walked closer. "I remember you, even though you've changed…a lot."

Martin's confusion began clearing in degrees. Their eyes met and his widened. "T.D.? What the hell—you were supposed to be locked away." He unconsciously took a step back before catching himself.

"You remember what you said? You promised you'll never leave me but you lied."

"We had to lock you away. Y-you are a danger to yourself and others," he sputtered, some steel returning to his spine. "I don't know how you escaped but Ben—"

"He's dead, he won't be giving me shock therapy any more; so are Melissa and Frankie and Lori and Uncle Bruce …and her." The words were spoken in a sing-song voice, fingers ticking off as he went along. "Now it's your turn."

Martin knew he had no reason to be afraid but the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. "Crazy, you really are crazy." He remembered when the man standing in front of him was a young boy and the unsettling feeling he always evoked; it was tenfold now.

"You stood and watched and did nothing. You held me back while they killed dad in his bed—Uncle Bruce and Camilla. You promised you'd keep me safe when Melissa and Lori tried to take me away from home but you lied! They were the ones who said I was a danger to myself but you could have told them the truth! You knew there was nothing wrong with me."

"T.D you were always seeing things nobody saw and always talking to yourself! Remember the nightmares, the blackouts? How many times did you 'fall' down the stairs? By the time you were eleven, you'd slit your own wrists twice! They were absolutely right—you are a danger to yourself and others."

"And then they did take me away and locked me up with Ben. He kept me in the basement with the real lunatics, gave me so many drugs that I really did go crazy. They're all dead now, and soon you'll be dead too."

*******

Senna was surprised and grudgingly impressed that his new master had somehow managed to move them both from the mansion to this apartment room without encountering anyone on the way. Now, what were they doing in a dark room? They waited and waited and he felt all the more antsy. Perhaps it was because his master was jittery, tapping his feet to a random beat. There was a buzzing sound in Senna's head, a tiny starburst of light, and it was getting louder; soon it became a pulsing beat in his head and he could focus on nothing else.

The room was suddenly thrown into light and there was a man standing by the door. Now's my chance, Senna thought. He leaped down, ready to unleash his pent up rage on his soon to be dead master. He stalked toward Damien, hissing and spitting with fury but a bolt of pain split his head. Something, _something_ kept forcing him in the other direction. No! He had no business with the other human. Rage poured into him like molten lava, quickening his pent up frustration into a ball of potent hate. But he had to, he just had to kill the human. He hated this! His powerlessness, the fact that he couldn't enact his deserved justice. Senna tried again but found his limbs turning the other way. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, the only thing he could see was the man in front of him, murderous intent filling his head. Thwarted, he howled internally and admitted defeat, eyes glowing gold as he burst into his true form. His target stumbled backward, terror in his eyes. Senna felt a little satisfaction at that, leaping for the human's throat. Martin Delaney didn't have time to react before he was knocked back into the wall by the charging beast. Ripping and crunching sounds filled the air, punctuated by gargled screams.

Damien watched impassively as his pet vented his fury on the hapless human, blood shooting up into the air in geysers to splash against the wall and floor. The fetid stench of opened guts mingled with the nauseating sweetness of blood, covering the air in a heavy cloak. After what seemed like eternity the deed was done and Martin stopped twitching. A vacant smile hovered over his pale face as he stared at the body, not even taking in the fact that it was half obstructed by an animal that most definitely wasn't a cat.

"Done…it's all done." He frowned into the wall, wondering why he didn't feel any different.

"Yes it is," a silky voice purred from the darkness. "But I wish you hadn't done that."

******

J.C. ignored the human's gasp of surprise as he swiftly turned around, didn't even glance his way, focusing more on the lion backing away from the body. He walked over and slowly knelt before the beast, fingers tangling in his white mane. He held up a palm at the bloody maw, not flinching at the sticky smear the sniffing nose and tongue left on his hands, and planted a kiss between the lion's ears.

"W-who are you?"

There was a quaver in the human's voice, mostly because the door was still locked and he appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

"I wish you hadn't put him between the two of you." J.C. ignored the question and sank unto the love seat, pulling the lion closer. They both ignored the rivulets of blood pooling at their feet. "Guns, knives, you humans always need to have something between you and your enemies."

"I-I…"

"You used him to do your dirty work, just like the others. Vengeance is all fine and good as far as I'm concerned, but why bring the cats into it? You enter into their heads, force them to feel your human feelings and your hate and your rage…and then they suffer for it."

The human staggered backward as though shot, the back of his knees hit the sofa and he tumbled to the ground with a thump. "I couldn't help them…it got harder and harder, and they all left me." The human bowed his head, straggly mop of hair falling over his face. He shook from head to toe, thin shoulders quivering in the thick jacket he had worn on the way here to hide the cat from view. The man didn't bother to deny anything because he knew without asking. They both knew.

"Indeed, one after the other, and you suffered with each one of them," J.C. murmured, his voice utterly devoid of judgment or any other emotion. "And so like a spoiled child you betrayed _their_ trust and used _them_ for your own purposes, taking lives and evading the law. How pathetic. They came to you because they saw you as kin but underneath it all you're still a human." He got to his feet, leading the purring lion along until they stood in front of the man. The bowed head slowly rose and the necklace hitherto hidden in his shirt slid out.

"I don't—I didn't know." There was a note of panic and hysteria in his voice.

J.C. raised an eyebrow but didn't stop tickling the lion, who leaned against his leg. "No probably you didn't, not at first, but then you must have realized what you _did_…What you could do." He gestured to the body in the room. "You didn't stop, until it got to the point where you couldn't control it anymore." He leaned lower until their eyes met, molten gold searing and reflected back in the mismatched pair. "You and I aren't completely different, you know? I've just discovered that I'm a god. Now I'm finding out what I can do…it's all so amazing and I don't think I want to stop either."

J.C. smiled faintly, as though recalling an old joke, and leaned lower, hand reaching around the human's neck. "The saddest part of it all is that you can't really be blamed. All your life you've been seeing things that others can't see; they've called you deranged and insane, lied to you and taken everything you ever loved. They've locked you up since infancy, hidden you away from others and twisted what part of your mind was your own." His fingers closed around the simple rope chain and yanked it free. He raised the swinging pendant to eye level and the smile became a chuckle. "In fact, your only crime was being born with a mind strong enough to See."

Silence followed his words, filling up the space in the room while he continued to inspect the pendant, the human groveling at his feet completely forgotten for the present. Eventually, the lion made a snorting sound and he looked down. "But you've lead to many deaths and there's the thing about that contract you signed."

"C-contract?"

J.C. nodded and took a step back, casually pocketing the necklace. "Hmmm yes, the contract. You can't keep what's not yours to begin with." He looked at the human without really seeing him, his mind already eons of thoughts away from their reality.

"I can make it all stop, end it right now. You've had your nice little killing spree and everything is done with now, justice served. You don't really have a place in this world; there's nothing of value to you here, no one you'll miss or who'll miss you." J.C.'s voice was soft and persuasive, sending a lull through the trauma screaming in the room. He let go of his grip on the lion and it stalked closer, fangs bared, claws retracting.

Senna lazily licked the last drops of blood off his coat and washed his face, a deep rumble of pleasure escaping his lips as his bones and muscles sang with freedom. When he was satisfied with his appearance, he turned around to the figure lounging on the couch. It was his J.C. all right but different, sharper, clearer, as though the feline was only just seeing him for the first time. He smiled, eyes simmering to the normal hazel brown. The feline grinned and took a step forward, remembering his anger just in time. He stopped and crossed his arms, a grieved pout replacing the grin.

J.C. extended his arms but Senna shook his head for a playful moment, finally capitulated with a sigh, and crossed the distance between them to climb into his beloved's arms. He yawned and stretched, reeling from the sudden wave of exhaustion that crashed through him and curled into a ball. "You got a lot of 'splaining to do."

"Mmmm-hmm," J.C, replied but he was already asleep.

*****

Leon's worry for his partner had now become full on foreboding. The man was not at his apartment, wasn't picking up his phone and no one he called at work reported him ever coming in. There were several ways this could go and few of them looked good. They'd been handling several cases, including one involving the murder of a notorious drug boss. These days it was easy for cops to get caught in the crossfire between gangs and families. What if one of them had lain in wait for his partner? The other man could have been tortured or worse, even killed by now. Such troublesome thoughts went through the detective's head as he started homeward bound, only to be pulled back into reality by his ringing cell phone. It was J.C.

"Jesus, man, what the Hell is up with you? Can't just go off the radar without saying anything, people start thinking crazy shit like you're hog tied in some warehouse, or you're sittin' pretty with the fishes, a 50 stone round your ankles. I was gonna wait till morning before filing a report on your ass."

"I've been busy."

The blonde scoffed and shook his head. "Yeah you better have an excuse ready. I've been busting my ass chasing after leads and looking out for you. Where the hell are you calling from?"

"Well I'm in my apartment."

"Don't give me that bullshit; I just came from the place and you're not home."

"What?" J.C. clearly sounded nonplussed and the blonde sighed impatiently.

"Look, it's okay if you've holed up in some girl's place, everyone needs a little R and R once in a while, but we got a hot case to deal with and Jill's no longer asking nicely."

The other man chuckled softly and Leon rolled his eyes to the car ceiling. Trust him to make a mountain out of a mole hill. His partner was obviously still alive and laughing at him. This is exactly what happens when you start caring for other people.

"Actually, about that—"

"—Yeah you won't believe what I found out while you were getting your groove on. Remember the guy who escaped from Halliwell's psych ward? Turns out he's none other than Tristan D. Pryor, Julian's son and Bruce's nephew. Looks like it all comes full circle now, huh?"

"I know"

"Exactly, right? So I get to thinking, lunatic's on the loose and at least one person directly related to him is dead. Makes me wonder, where's this guy been hiding out all this time?"

"At the old Pryor mansion, the same one Mercer and Hopkins handles."

"My guess too!"

J.C. sighed heavily. "Listen, where are you right now?"

"Um, on the way home— why?"

"I'm about to give you an address."

The blonde frowned, glancing through his rear view mirror to the long line of headlights behind him. "Can't this wait until tomorrow? We ought to swing by the mansion and check it out to make sure…that is if you're still interested in all this police work."

"That's the thing Leon, I'm not."

The steering wheel nearly slipped out of Leon's hands but he caught it just in time, averting what would have been a disaster. In the back of his mind a little voice snidely muttered things about cops breaking the law, talking on the cell phone while driving. "Wait, what? You're joking right? Yeah, well it's not funny. We're in the middle of a fucking investigation."

J.C. chuckled again but now the lazy laugh was beginning to annoy the other man. "Actually the investigation is over, case closed. I just thought you ought to know, since you still care so much about that kind of thing."

"What the hell are you talking about? Have you been drinking, cos you're not making any sense."

"If you go to the address, you'll find two bodies. One belongs to Damien Pryor and the other to Martin Delaney. He was Tristan's nanny."

****

Leon hesitantly got out of the elevator, looking around him as he walked down the hallway. It was one of those new high end condominium apartments, the kind that was populated by celebrity trainers, agents, and the odd B-list movie star. A part of him still refused to believe everything his partner had told him over the phone because it just didn't make sense. It was crazy talk, pure and simple. The thing was, J.C. sounded too serious and matter of fact about it all to be making things up.

"_You'll find the two of them in the apartment, dead."_

Leon stopped and double checked the number, it was the right one. It was one of those that required a pass key to enter. He cautiously pushed the door and it silently swung open. That was the first warning sign.

"_It was all about revenge, and we were right about them being centrally connected. The murders began when Damien escaped from the psychiatric ward and went after his uncle."_

The detective walked in and mentally braced himself for whatever carnage was in store. The memory of previous scenes was enough to put him on guard. The premonition was right; the first body was sprawled half on a love seat, throat and lungs literally ripped out. The rug around him was soaked in blood, red splatters marking the furniture. There was no need checking pulse for this one. Leon's stomach roiled in protest and he gagged, looking away with disgust.

"_Damien was just trying to avenge his father's death. He was twelve at the time and witnessed Bruce and Camilla killing him. They were after Julian's inheritance and property, which would naturally fall to his next of kin once he died. He willed everything to Damien of course, but with his childhood history of strange behavior it wasn't difficult to get his pediatrician and the notable therapist his father made him regularly visit to testify to a judge that he ought to be placed in a mental health institute. Permanently."_

He carefully stepped around the body, trying his best not to contaminate the crime scene. The other body was wedged behind the couch, in a much worse state than the first. The man stared sightlessly into nowhere, mouth half open in an expression of surprise. His whole torso was pretty much gone, guts and intestines trailing all over the floor. The smell of feces fouled the air. It was too much Leon rubbed his face and backed into the corner. "Damn."

"_But Damien wasn't really crazy, just touched. Somehow he escaped from Halliwell and there was just one thing on his mind—finding the people who killed his father and took away his freedom."_

Leon looked around him and laughed mirthlessly.

"_How am I supposed to believe a cat did all this?"_

"_I'm not going to mince words with you Leon and frankly, I don't care if you believe me or not. It's funny how every one of our dead cases owned a cat. __Damien was using their pets to kill them__. His last victim was Martin Delaney, and then the cat turned on him too."_

How do you use a cat to kill people? How do you write that into an official report? How do you explain your partner's knowledge of a crime scene before it became a crime scene? He knew what J.C. said but that was a boat load of crazy assed shit. If he'd been here and witnessed the whole event like he said, then why didn't he intervene or do anything to stop the deaths? Besides what was he doing here in the first place? Leon didn't want to think his partner had something to do with these murders; he just never got that vibe off J.C. Besides, they could account for the other man's whereabouts during the other murders and…it just wouldn't make any sense. He wasn't the type to suddenly go copy cat on them… The detective rubbed his face, feeling uneasy and confused.

First things first, he had to report this situation. Then he would figure out how to deal with the other stuff. He flipped his cell phone open with a heavy sigh. Figure out how to explain his presence on the crime scene as well.

"911 dispatch."

"Yeah, this is Detective Leon Orcot…"

***

All was quiet in the pet shop, the inhabitants all ensconced in their rooms and dreams, heedless of the rest of the world. Count D was in bed, sound asleep for the first time in several nights, utterly exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster of his day. His eyes snapped open all at once and he half rose, looking around in the darkness. The corners of his mouth curved up into a satisfied smile as he listened and understood.

It was done.

The instinctive awareness that the contract had been broken was like sweet rain on parched earth, snapping the taut strings in his muscles. The Count sank into the pillows with a small yawn, languishing in the relief that spiced his somnambulistic state like cinnamon over honey, dragging him back into the realm of sleep. He didn't resist, welcoming the bone deep calm that washed over him.

It was over.

There was no reason to trouble himself seeking after this particular creature, who had already chosen his path after all. Count D burrowed deeper into the mass of blankets and quilts on his bed, curling up into a ball. Grandfather would certainly have something to say about it all…

But everything else could wait until tomorrow.

**

She came like she usually did, in mist and darkness, and J.C. wasn't surprised. He had expected her to show up sooner or later and that was why he stayed up on the couch, rather than in bed.

"You are a cruel one…mother."

Lurdes lifted an easy shoulder. "One's cruelty is another's kindness. Besides, I have no idea what you're talking about."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Of course you don't—I forgot that you'd rather not concern yourself with the things of this world."

She smiled and sat beside him, patting his lap indulgently. "Don't worry, you'll get there eventually."

J.C. raised an eyebrow. "You mean become like you?"

They measured gazes for a long, long moment and then he looked away. "Is that what it means to be a god? For just how long have you been influencing things until they got to this point?"

"You flatter me Casi, but I'm not omnipotent," Lurdes replied shortly and he chuckled.

"No, mama, you're not."

She made a soft sound in the back of her throat and looked away. "I'm here for what belongs to me."

"Oh, you mean this," J.C. feigned innocence, raising the necklace to the light pouring from the moon outside. They stared at the swinging pendant in fascination, watching as it danced to no wind, gleaming now silver and then ivory. "A single fang…it explains a lot of things mother. Having the Sight does not explain for being able to bind another's will…especially when he was only human."

She didn't reply but reached for the fang; he shifted away, shaking his head. "No, not until you tell me the whole story; the real purpose for all this."

Lurdes sighed and sank back into the couch. "I've waited for a very long time for this moment; do not get in my way, son."

"Well I'm not; I just believe I deserve to know the truth. You used me up until this point and I haven't complained mother," J.C. replied, carelessly swinging the necklace here and there. "You know what I realized yesterday? One does not need help finding what belongs to one…if it actually belonged to one."

She stiffened and turned back to regard him with a sharper gaze. There was surprise and grudging respect in her eyes. "You are too perceptive for your own good. Nevertheless, I don't see the harm in you knowing. I shall tell you another story."

"I'm listening."

"This all happened long time ago before the realm of the Gods was closed to mortal creatures, while the Nameless Ones still walked over this young earth." Lurdes paused and laughed, curls dancing over her face as she shook with mirth. "In hindsight this seems so childish, hard to believe it all started over lovers' spat. The pelt belongs to my Mate and consort, a beast God of the lower worlds. Love is such a flimsy term; how can you define a union that shakes mountains, that causes the very earth to rent, one that defies time, a certainty as sure as the rising sun? Surely nothing so mortal as the word love. But of course, he had to come with an imperial mother, who couldn't stand the sight of us together." She sighed and hugged her legs close, an incongruously vulnerable gesture that he never would have thought her capable of making. "We had fights, real fights, about her. I suppose every boy retains those special feelings for his mother."

J.C's eyebrows shot up in response. "Well, if you say so."

"Be quiet," Lurdes retorted. "I can't even remember what caused the last one—it's been so very long—but I stormed down to this plane. I took along his pelt of course, a little out of spite I think, and so he'd know where to look for me. My consort often walked among the creatures of this world, but with his divine essence safely contained within the Jaguar's form. And so I stayed here and sulked, determined not to go back home until he came down and apologized…and I forgot about time. The Sleep came over this realm and I was overwhelmed by it, along with other creatures. When I awoke it was to a different time, a different space…and more importantly, the realm of the Gods was shut from this plane."

He nodded in understanding. "And you were trapped here. So you can't go back home but your Mate can open the gateway for you…and you need his pelt for that to happen. This was your plan, until you lost this fang. What I don't understand is why you led me to believe you were dead."

Lurdes sighed and got to her feet, slowly pacing the length of the couch. "I may be immortal but being in this realm for so long, in the human shell I cast for myself…it was beginning to drain my essence. Slowly but steadily, I too began aging with the rest of this world. Time had become my enemy and the only thing I could do was release myself from my body. That was when I finally sensed the fang's call, imagine the irony. I had to get it back, my time on this plane limited as it is, and I had to use every means available."

"And it only took eight bodies to get there." J.C. casually slipped the fang out of the necklace. He held it in his hand, feeling the alien pulse of power so…cold. He frowned and handed it over. She took it gently and released a deep sigh, a shiver passing through her as though shaking off invisible bonds. She looked up to the moon with a smile unlike any he'd ever seen before. It was open, softening her face, lighting up her eyes like the surface of the sea on a starry night. She was beautiful, so beautiful, and all he could do look. Her skin began to glow, particles of light streaming from her finger tips, her hair, her feet, until she was surrounded by a halo of pure energy.

"What is my purpose now, Avo?" He murmured, his face turned away from the gathering orb of light.

"Your purpose is entirely your own Casi; what does an Old creature like me have to give you of this mad, strange world?"

J.C. shrugged and shifted on the couch, feeling for all the world like a lost and abandoned child. "I've done what you wanted but…now what am I supposed to do with myself?"

She came closer, casting him in her glory. "Oh I don't know, reveal yourself to a few simple minded souls and have them organize a new shrine in your sake? Or be like the Elder D and open an animal haven with your little mate? I warn you though, that you'll never win against this world."

"The Elder D…well now _that_ makes sense," He scoffed, wondering how he could have missed the connection. "So, never again then, not even in my dreams?"

Her form was completely gone now, absorbed into the orb. It lazily rose in the air, pulsing through the ceiling.

Only in memories….

The room brightened for an instant and then she was gone. The silence in her wake had never been more complete or absolute, lingering for what felt like eternity, until he heard footsteps coming from the bedroom and turned around. Senna stood by the threshold yawning, one fist rubbing a sleepy eye, his hair mussed this way and that. J.C.'s shirt was comically large on him, reaching all the way down to his knees. Their eyes met and he smiled.

"I rolled over and kept on rolling to the edge. Good thing cats always land on their feet or that would have been very embarrassing. Want some company?"

J.C. nodded, and he walked to the couch, sitting and curling up against his beloved. A god. "You owe me an explanation, and an apology."

"Which do you want first, the explaining or the apology?"

The feline narrowed his eyes, leaning lower to growl, "Apology first; it's your fault I got into that mess in the first place." They locked eyes in a battle of wills while he waited. When the words didn't seem forthcoming, he hissed and began twisting off J.C.'s lap.

"I'm sooooory—I'm sorry about what happened in the shop, sorry I left you alone, I'm sorry it took so long for me to understand…anything else?"

"You're sorry I had to put up with that human."

"I'm sorry you had to put up with that human."

"You'll never be able to completely make it up to me, but you'll keep trying."

"I'll never be able to fully make it up to you, but I'll keep trying."

"You don't deserve to be loved the way I love you."

"I don't deserve to be loved the way you love me—this is becoming ridiculous Senna. I did come for you, didn't I?"

The feline giggled with delight, savoring the words behind the words. "I guess you did, when I needed you the most. All right you're on the road to forgiveness now." He leaned lower to drop a peck on J.C.'s lips but it became a lingering kiss. Senna pressed closer hesitantly at first, then got bolder and the kiss deepened. His arms slid around J.C.'s neck to keep him close, even as the latter's grip around his waist tightened. Their tongues danced and caressed as they leisurely explored each other's mouth. This, he thought, was the true meaning of bliss. Calloused fingers began cautiously exploring inside his shirt and he mewled, breaking out of the kiss to nuzzle J.C.'s neck encouragingly.

"You feel like silk."

"Thank you," he chuckled, succumbing to the yawn that threatened to kill the mood. Senna wanted more and ached for his love's touch, but he was still so tired. He looked up appealingly to J.C.'s eyes. "Bed, please?"

The latter laughed and easily got to his feet, carrying his feline along. "Featherweight." They returned to the room and he gently deposited his load on the bed, sinking unto the soft pillows with a sigh. Did gods get tired?

Senna promptly snuggled closer, tangling his limbs with J.C.'s. Now that they were in bed, he couldn't go back to sleep. There was still one big question on his mind. "What made you change your mind?"

"The thought of losing you," the god replied after a slight pause. "I'd already developed strong feelings for you without knowing why or how; when the Count showed up here saying you were in danger, they all came rushing to the surface. And after my mother's bombshell, all the other details suddenly became irrelevant." J.C. rolled over until he was on top of the feline, looking straight into his eyes. "It doesn't matter how our story began—you are still my cat. Mine."

Senna wasn't fazed by the possessive flash in his beloved's eyes, in fact it pleased him to no end. He smiled and nodded, leaning up to plant a kiss to his lips. "Yours. Now, and always."

*

Count D wasn't really surprised when he emerged from the shop's interior to find the detective—no, the god—lounging on his couch. First the mother, and now the son, how much more would he have to put up with? Nevertheless, he approached with a smile that was fractionally warmer than his usual mask. "Good morning, detective. How may I be of service to you?"

The other god shrugged lightly, gesturing to Senna in the corner. The feline looked up and grinned, waving to their host. "Hello, Count, just tying up a few loose ends here and there."

"I see, will you be staying long enough for tea?" The Kami wasn't trying to be rid of them, at least not openly, but he was already longing for the good old days of peace and quiet before they brought their fabled romance, amongst everything else, to his doorstep.

J.C. shook his head. "No need to trouble yourself, we won't be long. The contract is obviously broken, and I took the liberty of cleaning up the mess."

Count D settled into the seat opposite them. "In what way?"

"He's removed every trace of himself from the human world. It's as if J.C. Tennyson never existed at all," Senna clarified, tucking his legs up on the couch. Count D distantly watched him, holding his peace when he normally would have done otherwise.

"And along the way I did you the favor of, ah, blurring over the department's reasons for keeping you on the watch list. You are once again a model citizen," J.C. blandly continued. "Of course, I had to tamper with the minds of those I've had contact with, particularly my old partner Leon."

"Don't worry, Count, there's no permanent damage to your human. He still remembers the way to this shop," the feline helpfully added, a sly smile on his lips as he winked at the Count.

"My human?"

"Leon just has no memory of me or our interactions together. You on the other hand, he'll continue to keep in mind and look for reasons to convict."

The Kami's eyebrows couldn't rise any further. "Should I be thanking you for that?"

J.C. chuckled, eyes shifting from gold to brown as he locked gazes with the other god. "This place is not big enough for the two of us, so we'll be vacating your territory."

Now that was music to the already frazzled Count's ears. "Well then, I appreciate your help and timely intervention in that matter. I do not presume we will be crossing paths in the future?"

"Not unless there is a reason to," Senna replied for the both of them. The Kami nodded and bowed as they all got to their feet. The pair made for the door and he watched them depart, frowning slightly when J.C. turned back around.

"It struck me as funny; you and Damien were doing the same things, for much the same reasons. It makes me wonder though, whose actions are more justified."

Throughout that day, long after they were gone, the Count still wore that frown on his face.

~o~

_If ya want something done right, gotta do it yourself_

-------------------

Yeah, this took a while coming didn't it?

That's because Mobius Chains is just the beginning of our story after all...

Hit the button to the next chapter and you'll see what I mean.


	21. Chapter 21

**A little note**

It's just as I said, there's still much more to the story than can be stuffed into one plot line. That and I promised to be as true to cannon as possible, giving our primary characters as much time to develop and 'grow' into each other as possible. Without further ado, I give you a preview of the next installment in the Chain.

Warning:

Potty mouthed-ness

Chain Link Two: Mortal Coil

Death-Proof

"Remember Chris, ya gotta take easy with these cakes and stuff. The sugar is bad for your teeth and ya know She'll give me an earful if you go back home with cavities." Leon knew his fretting was falling on deaf ears, what with the way his brother's wide blue eyes devoured the contents of the bakery bag. A smile tugged his lips in spite of the stern words and he reached out to ruffle the young boy's corn silk hair, only a few shades lighter than his own. There was no way he could put up a hard face to that wide happy smile, even if it meant having a long chat with his aunt later.

Just three days ago his aunt called to tell him about the change in plans. Apparently her household had been struck with a bad case of the flu and it was catching; so far Chris was the only other healthy one in the house but she was up to her neck with taking care of the others. Although they'd originally scheduled his trip for two weeks later, could Leon take care of his brother any way? Talk about timing. The detective was still neck deep with issues at work, concerning the messy conclusion of a long investigation his department had been handling over a serial killer with a rather unique modus operandi. Acting on a hot tip, Leon had walked into a murder scene, starring the serial killer and his victim. Both died in much the same fashion--gruesomely and with lots of trauma. Unfortunately, the 'murder weapon' was still at large.

So while the department internal affairs was clearing that up, he was supposed to keep a low profile. At least it meant he had time on his hands to clean up the apartment a bit and get a few things ready. He'd spent a whole day prowling grocery stores, list in hand because apparently his aunt was very strict about the kinds of things Chris was allowed to eat. Well screw that, Leon thought, all those foods involved a lot of cooking and he could already see what dangerous roads that would lead. It was safer for everyone if he just kept the pizza shop's number on the fridge…sure he'll get healthy stuff like fruits and veggies into the mix, maybe try one of vegetarian pizzas while they were at it.

_Big brother, I don't even know which one to start with…strawberry crème pie or the cheesecake…_

The detective chuckled. "How about you make that decision when we get home? It's not nice to eat in the streets ya know?" Good thing he was a fast reader and had at least brushed up on his sign language.

Chris hastily nodded, a soft flush of chagrin stealing over his fair features. His fingers rapidly moved in the air.

_Sorry._

To say he stood in awe of his older brother was an understatement; he literally worshiped the ground beneath the detective's feet. Chris had always wished to live with his big brother but for one reason or another, this dream remained just that—a dream, a subject that was occasionally touched upon by the grownups but always quickly shelved away. He had to be content with the rare snatches of time they spent together now and then, hoping that perhaps when he was a little older his aunt would finally allow him to stay in San Francisco. He knew, from the way she spoke about him and her expressions whenever Leon called, that she didn't think much of his ability to take care of a child. He had a dangerous job with the police and was still an 'unrepentant bachelor.'

Of course there was the part that they never let Chris forget; the fact that Leon himself was the one who gave him up to their aunt. His cousin Sam never tired of of drumming it into his ears: _When your mom died giving birth to you_, _Leon dumped you on our doorstep and never looked back_. He always suffered a mix of guilt and hurt whenever anyone reminded him about this, because of the little voice whispering darkly in the back of his mind. But he couldn't tell this to anyone, not to his family and least of all his big brother.

Chris was determined to keep these things quiet and completely revel in happy moments like this, keeping them in his safe place of precious memories. He shyly reached forward and slipped his small hand into Leon's; it was like wearing a warm, calloused baseball mitt. Forgetting was the hard part, especially when Chris was alone, but for now he was not going to think about that. The blonde man looked down to their joined hands and smiled, his blue eyes turning the color of summer' sky.

Walking down the street hand in hand, both in white tee shirts and rugged jeans, it was difficult for anyone looking at them to think them anything other than father and son.

They got to the intersection and joined the already gathered masses waiting for the cars to stop passing and the light to turn. Leon glanced across to the other side and recognized among the people standing by, a certain cheongsam clad Chinaman.

Count D.

He could never figure out why the other man insisted on being addressed by some phony title, particularly since he was sure one had to be European to be called Count. Count D owned a pet shop in the heart of Chinatown, one with a controversial history with his department, and was once a major suspect in the particular case they were still dealing with. Leon had been all poised to nab him when evidence and surveillance removed him from the murders, not that it eased his gut feeling about the man. D might not be involved with the latest string of deaths but there were too many fishy circumstances surrounding him and his pet shop. The detective had pretty much forgotten about him, what with the flurry of issues he was dealing with, but just looking at that ever present smirk brought all his subsided feelings about the man to the forefront of his mind.

Ironically enough, the blonde had sought 'expert advice' from the very same Count with the fact that their serial killer had been using animals to attack his victims. He had to endure the pet shop owner's countless thinly veiled jabs at his person and profession before finally agreeing to help. He and...and… Leon shook away the fuzziness in his head, tightening his hold on his brother's hand as the light turned green. With any luck, they would pass by each other just like that. There will be other opportunities to pursue the subject of Count D but not today. He didn't feel like trading mental punches this evening, not with Chris in tow.

The Chinaman looked up and their eyes met. No such luck. Leon held his brother back as the latter absently began stepping toward the crossing. Chris looked up and blinked askance at the detective, whose eyes were still fixed ahead. He turned across to see what he was looking at and saw the approaching figure, eyes widening in awe.

*

Count D's eyebrows rose when he saw the American across the street. _Of all the days to run out of cake_. He supposed the brief moment of respite was over after all, steeling himself for whatever the detective would choose to throw his way this time. Even though they'd parted ways in a detente of sorts, human nature was notoriously capricious and forgetful.

He joined the retinue of people crossing the street, keeping the usual aloof smile on his face. It would be rude not to at least acknowledge his nemesis—that and he wanted to test how the human's memory would recover from tampering. The crowd in front of the Count parted as he reached the middle of the intersection, revealing the small figure standing next to the detective. His eyebrows shut up even further because the young boy was an almost perfect replica of the blonde. The only difference where the former had stared at him with eyes hardened by cynicism, only wonder and innocence reflected in the child's.

Count D knew it shouldn't come as such a surprise; the detective _was_ old enough to have a child or two of his own. Human males often prided themselves on their early knowledge of the ways of the world and this particular one didn't look as if he'd ever practiced a moment of forbearance in his life. No, the Kami reconsidered, the real surprise would be the fact that there is only one and not a retinue of little detectives milling about the place.

"Good evening detective, what a _surprise_ to see you here and so far from my shop. Just when I was getting used to not having to look over my shoulder, you kindly remind me otherwise," he began brightly once they stood face to face with each other, glancing down at the young boy without waiting for his father's reply. "Is this your son? What a charming young man, a spitting image of yourself if I might add." The child was obviously an introverted type; hiding behind his father's leg with his face half buried in the latter's pants.

"Hey Count D and no, I'm not shadowing you. Don't you think I've got better things to do with my time than to be tailing your ass- erm tailing you all over the place?'

The Chinaman smirked at the quick correction, done for the sake of the child, no doubt. "Well I would hope you are not dragging your son into your murky world of police business just yet. He will have years ahead of him to step into your shoes." The boy was still holding on to his father's pants but his face was no longer hidden from view. Wide blue eyes held the Count's for an instant and within them he read awe, as well as _recognition_. A small frown hovered on his brow but the detective had begun speaking.

"I don't have any kids!"

He looked back up to the outraged eyes and inclined his head apologetically. "Forgive me for coming to such quick conclusions but it is an easy mistake to make. You two share an uncanny resemblance." Not father and son...perhaps children of the same parents then?

The human shrugged vaguely, eyes moving away to stare at nothing in particular. "Yeah I get that a lot…come on Chris, stop hiding behind me." He reached and successfully pulled the boy forward. "This is Count D; Count D if he ever goes missing, you know who I'm coming after."

Count D had the good grace to look only mildly affronted by this charge. "Detective I have told you time and time again that I do not trade in humans, only love dreams and hope." He turned to the boy and held out a hand in the proper Western fashion. "Hello Chris, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The boy seemed to hesitate for a moment before shyly stepping forward and putting his small fingers in the Kami's hand. "N-Nice to meet you Count D"

"Come on Chris, he's just said hello"

The boy merely hung his head, the sheet of fair hair shielding his face from view.

"He's just being too shy to sign properly," the blonde murmured somewhat apologetically.

"Oh." The Count straightened, his frown becoming more pronounced. He was certain he'd just heard Chris's soft tenor murmur a reply and risked another glance at the boy, who was now staring at his cheongsam with rapt attention.

The detective shifted his weight from foot to foot, a sure sign of agitation. "Yeah well we've got to go."

"Of course, and I must hurry to the bakery before it is closed. I see you have just returned from there as well," the pet shop owner gestured to the bag in Chris's hands, giving him another kind smile. It should be so easy to visit his ire at the detective upon the child but he couldn't, not in the face of such unsoiled innocence. "Goodbye Chris, feel free to visit my pet shop at any time. Perhaps we can find a nice pet for you."

"Oh _hell_ no," came the vehement reply from Leon and he shook his head with a sigh.

"Whatever you say detective."

The Count bowed slightly to the pair and walked away, feeling both the sting of ice and the tickle of fire from their encounter. There was much to ponder. He found himself looking over his shoulder, just as the young boy walking ahead did the same.

Their eyes met and held for a long moment.

**

It was nighttime and the Kami was making the last few entries into the pet shop's ancient tome of records. The room was largely deserted, the comfortable quiet broken only by the faint scratch of fountain quill over rice paper. The wind chimes outside tinkled and he looked up with a frown because surely it was too late for anyone to be thinking of patronizing the shop. He had just gotten over the humans' suspicions of his shop and here was yet another person about to give them confirmation of 'late night solicitation' in his premises. The shop keeper could already picture the look on a certain detective's face, brandishing a glossy photograph in his face.

_"So what you got to say about it this time, eh D?"_

He shuddered and shook his head in resignation as the door swung open, walking over to his usual welcoming position. Perhaps whoever it was just lost his or her way to the latest rave in American-Chinese* cuisine. A black booted foot crossed the threshold and he bowed low.

"Welcome to my pet shop; we sell love dreams and hope. How may I be of service to you?"

Count D looked up as the pair slowly walked in, hand in hand. They looked around the shop and made a sound of assent.

"I'm guessing you're Count D?"

He made a sound of assent to the one who had just spoken. "Indeed I am, and I presume you are here on recommendation from one of my customers?"

"Yeah, an old acquaintance," the other lightly replied, as they took a step closer to the light in tandem. One was dressed from head to toe in black; black silk shirt over dress pants and gleaming leather boots. A stylish looking suit jacket hung from his fingers, thrown casually over one shoulder, while the other hand loosened the silver clasp on his black tie. It was all a rather conservative picture, save for the glint of silver on his ears, neck, fingers and lips when he moved or spoke. Cool black eyes regarded the Count with an expression of wry amusement, as though he was in early on the irony of life and still contemplated sharing it with the rest of the world. Perhaps it was because of all the surrounding black, but his alabaster white skin stood out very sharply in the light, gleaming with an almost ethereal luster.

"I want get a pet for this one here."

By _this one here_, the Kami surmised that he meant the other man, who was taking in every feature in the shop with childlike attention. His appearance couldn't have been more starkly opposite to his partner, the hot pink top, ripped jeans and chain link belt screaming out loud where the latter wanted to blend into the background. He wore a large and ornate looking collar over his neck, complete with dangling silver bone, and ankle length silver boots. His scarlet streaked black hair was mussed and scattered every which direction over his face, as though the handiwork of childish and impatient fingers. Like the other man, his pale skin had that pearlescent sheen to it. His partner's finger poked his cheek and he nodded with a bright smile.

"Mmmm-hmmm, something to keep my mind occupied," he added, skipping away to look at the Count's collections of bird stands. "We're new to these parts and Kona's been very busy, so he hasn't had as much time for me as he _should_."

The other man rolled his eyes and walked closer to hug him from behind. "Don't be like that Zai; it takes time and attention to run a club. You know these things take time to sort out. Once we open and everything settles down, I'm all yours again."

Count D watched with increasing bemusement as they carried on, clearing his throat discreetly to regain their attentions. "I see, and exactly what kind of pet do you have in mind?"

Kona shrugged, tugging on his lover's hand to come away. "I don't know, just something that will keep his attention from wandering."

"Ha ha, he _really_ doesn't like me being bored," Zai clarified, turning toward the stacked aquariums. "Ooh pretty fish."

"No fish, remember what happened the last time I bought fish for you?"

He turned away from the glass cases, looking to the pet shop owner with an appealing pout. "How was I supposed to know beta fish shouldn't be put together in the same tank?" The innocent expression on his face disappeared and was replaced by a sly smile. "But it was fun for a while, watching them go at each other."

The Kami did not like the relish in Zai's voice or the unsettling gleam of hunger in his eyes and broke eye contact, turning to who it seemed was the sane one of the pair. "No fish then."

Kona shook his head, reaching a beckoning hand to his wandering partner. "No fish, cats or dogs...no birds of any kind."

That didn't leave many other options. "We do carry hamsters and ferrets as well, if you would be interested in a small furry animal."

"Ferrets and hamsters, don't insult me Count D," He retorted with a chuckle, languidly gesturing around him. "Our old acquaintance told us that apart from these, you also carry some more exotic animals."

The air in the room stilled as Count D stared down the other man with raised eyebrows, a bland smile forming on his face. "Exotic animals…"

Zai's laugh rose in the air like the low shivery thrum of a violin, his boots cracking in the air as he circled the pet shop and came to a stop at the other side, so the shop keeper was standing between him and Kona. "Yes, exotic animals, hopefully something less boring than a hamster. The idea is to keep my mind and my hands _busy_, and I don't see a little furry accomplishing that."

"Who was it again that recommended me to you?"

They shared a meaningful look over his head, and Kona shrugged. "Sorry, we should have said our _late_, old acquaintance."

There was something predatory about the way the two of them walked around the Kami, forcing him to have to turn this way and that from one to the other. So who was the intended prey, him? The thought filled him with equal parts irritation and amusement. Why not? If this was the game they wanted to play…

Count D came to a decision and turned to his would be customers, his lips spread into the semblance of a warm smile, eyes gleaming with dark light. "In that case, it seems you come well informed." He moved from his solitary position and gestured to the interior of the shop. "Will both of you take responsibility for this pet?"

Kona waved an airy finger, brushing the question off, and the other two disappeared into the shop. They returned some minutes later, the pet shop keeper in the lead, his partner cradling something covered with a sleek black veil.

"He found me a pet, Kona its perfect!"

Count D inclined his head slightly. "I was able to furnish him with exactly what he deserves."

Zai nodded vigorously, adjusting the folds of the veil. "Mmmm-hmm and he made me sign a contract. There's no way I'm letting this one die on me like the others." His voice was giddy with excitement and he practically bounced from foot to foot but Kona wasn't so enthusiastic about the find.

"Contract, what sort of contract are we talking about? Maybe I should have gone in with you after all."

The Kami hastily raised a placating hand, his patronizing smile in place. "Oh it is nothing to worry about, just a few guidelines that he must adhere to with the handling of his pet. An exotic animal must come with specific needs and requirements, do you not agree? As long as these needs are met, there is no cause for concern. All we did was put it on paper that there is a clear understanding of these requirements and he signed the dotted line." He handed over a sheet of paper. "Even those purchasing our more ordinary pets are required to sign this contract."

Kona glanced at the letterhead and then over to his happy lover, and a wry smile formed on his face. "Paper and ink…you should have made him sign it in blood."

A puzzled frown hovered over Count D's brow as he too glanced at Zai before looking more critically at the other man. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh you'll find out soon enough," was all he got for reply, those cool black eyes continuing to laugh at the situation and his ignorance. "How much is this exotic pet going to cost me?"

"How much is the value of a rare creature?" The Kami lifted a shoulder in an elegant shrug. "I believe it is a relative matter of opinion. Price is not the object; my customer's happiness is more a important factor in this agreement. I believe that this is a worthy investment you will come to agree with me eventually."

The other man nodded slowly, his calm eyes sharpening as he pondered the words. "I understand how you feel about this." He reached into the suit's inner pocket and withdrew a leather bound checkbook and pen. "But we're new to these parts and it's important to make a good impression." He scribbled into a single check and ripped it out, sliding it in front of the shop keeper. "Let's not call this payment for this then, but a stepping stone for future transactions between us. I'm sure you won't have a problem with that."

Count D spared the slip of paper the barest glance and slightly inclined his head. " Your generosity is most encouraging."

Kona unfurled his suit, sliding one arm into a sleeve, and then the other. "Come on Zai, I've still got a few more things to look over at the site. You know I hate being late." He tightened the tie, shaking his head. "Some people have no concept of punctuality."

"I heard that," the other man retorted as he came abreast of the other two.

Kona rolled his eyes, extending his left hand to Zai, who promptly linked their fingers with his right. "Thanks again Count, you've done us both a favor tonight." His lover nodded happily, jiggling the veiled covered object in his left arm.

"You've done him a really big favor. Actually, you should come to the opening of our club. Right, Kona?"

"I am afraid that the club scene is not my cup of tea," the Kami hastily demurred.

Zai broke their linked hands, reaching into his back pocket for a small black card, which he extended to the shop keeper. It was velvet lined and written on with silver calligraphy.

"Our club is a different cup of tea than any you've ever tasted. We can guarantee that," Kona laughed and stepped closer to the shop keeper, a soft strain of persuasion warming his voice. "You're a beautiful person, and beautiful people are the reason Club Dante came to be in the first place. So we absolutely insist on your presence."

Count D blinked, momentarily startled by the admission. He knew that people were always aware of his superior physical features but few ever openly voiced this, perferring to their admiration, and the occasional inappropriate thoughts, to themselves. "Thank you for the compliment but—"

"—Kona does not do compliments," Zai cut in, shaking his head. "He's simply telling the truth. We noticed this when we first walked in and that's why you must be at the opening."

There was something strange about it all, and not just their words, so the Kami merely gave a vague shrug. "Thank you for the invitation. I will think about it."

The pair nodded and exited the shop, hand in hand, just the way they came.

"Did you have to give them _that one_?"

Count D turned slightly to the kitsune waiting by the beaded curtains. "It was inevitable. As fate would have it, what he wanted is exactly what he deserves."

***

It was cold, very cold, and still and silent. A smell hung heavy in the air, harsh and nauseating, perfecting the aura of gloom in this cold and silent place. It was not an inviting place but one that hastened the living away for many reasons, the most important being that it was the SCD's underground morgue.

A finger twitched ever so slightly. Hardly abnormal, cadavers were known from time to time to exhibit muscular spasms, except that it was soon followed by a more vigorous wiggle. And then another, and then the clenching of a hand. Said hand jerked wildly, slapping against a smooth metal surface, and the awakened neurons sent a clear message of pain to the brain, jolting it out of stupor. Eyes snapped open in the darkness, blinking, searching. A leg thumped here and there but the space was narrow and movement, limited. There was a harder, more urgent thump and then another, hitting more forcefully to the supposed weakness in the surface until it suddenly gave away.

Martin Delaney slipped off the folded gurney and onto the hard floor, the plain white sheets somehow hanging on and covering his nakedness. He looked around the spacious room, wondering where, why and how? He got to his feet, wondering why his skin felt so stiff and strange; a searching hand felt the rough stitches forming a misshapen Y over his torso. He didn't have any more time to ponder on this before the hunger came. It was sharp and fast, nearly bowling him over in urgency. With the hunger came dawning understanding.

They'd said something like this would happen but he didn't expect it to be so soon. What had happened—how had it even happened?

He knew these were important questions but a topic even more vital pushed all others from his mind—the hunger. Frozen jaws worked themselves loose and he licked his cracked lips. Need…he needed…Blood. Warm, living, gushing with every pounding heartbeat, emptying and filling at the same time. He moaned and began drawing in a breath but quickly stopped. It was pushing out the stitches around his chest.

Blood.

Need.

He took his first step, blindly seeking out like a new born vole for its mother's teat. Where? Where?

****

Martin Delaney looked at his reflection in the mirror and grimaced. What a mess! This was important because he knew he didn't like messes. He didn't know why though, but for some reason that didn't matter. Blood sluiced down his fingers along with the warm water he raised to clean his face. Clothes…he would have to change at…home. Something appropriate for the…the…

Terror

He jerked upright and looked around, flared nostrils scenting the air. Terror, panic…pain and pleasure, it was a jumbled mix of emotions, chaos his mind couldn't order fast enough.

"I'm late."

This was even more important than everything else. Martin Delaney tore the door off its hinges in his haste. He was late, so very late.

*****

Leon wiped the last plate in the sink dry before setting it back into the cupboard with an incredulous smile on his face. The plates were brand new, and so were the shiny cutlery pieces standing in an ornamental jar on the counter. Table manners used to be a foreign concept in this apartment, along with bed time and separate laundry loads. He gazed fondly at the small figure parked on the couch, currently entrapped by the 'anime' show on a TV channel he only a few days ago knew he'd been paying for with his cable subscription.

Why won't they call?

Leon trained his gaze on his cell phone, willing the device to come to life and deliver a much needed dose of normality to his system. Strangely enough, it worked. He practically dove for the machine, turning it on as though it was a life line. "Leon here."

"Orcot, get to HQ pronto; we're recalling every single detective, including those on leave."

It was assistant director Paulsen. He frowned slightly, wondering what could be important enough to cause this break in protocol. "What's going on?"

"It's director Jillian."

The detective could feel the tension laced into the terse words crackle against his skin. He forced out a chuckle, putting the worst at bay. "What, she suddenly decided to retire?"

"There was an incident in the building. She's in the ICU, Orcot. "

The line went dead but Leon didn't notice. So profound was his shock.

_The dead tell no tales and the living make no promises._

---------

_*Internal joke there...lol_

_But seriously, that's all she wrote on this chain link._

_See you on the flip side and the Mortal Coil  
_


End file.
